Windmills of His Mind
by Kirsty Welsh
Summary: Starsky is in Bay City Jail awaiting sentence for attempted murder - of Hutch. What happened at the childrens' home they were investigating? Can their friendship survive even this? WARNING. CONTAINS IMPLICATIONS OF MALE RAPE. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_I have never before written a story so long and towards the end it was taking me over! This is a collaboration between me and Brook (of course). She's my inspiration always. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It is a dark one!_

_WARNING the stort contains some scenes of male on male rape. If this offends, read no further._

_The scenes of prison are authentic - based on 2 prisons in America and 2 prisons here in the UK - as are the activities that go on in those establishmnets (no, it isnt just my sick mind!)_

_Disclaimer - I don't own 'em and I don't make any money from 'em, but i do like to plague them some!_

_Dedication - to all those wonderful readers, especially those who take the time to leave a review - Angie, Gail, Xtex, Brook, Julie and many more. Thanks so much_

**Chapter 1**

The man in cell 255 woke up early (or at least he thought it was early) on the East Hallway and opened his eyes to stare up at the bright yellow light screwed into a cage buried in the grimy ceiling. It greeted him with a bright sardonic stare like a vision of a miniature sun, although he'd not seen that particular orb for some time, being that there wasn't a window in the tiny room. A window would have made the place feel too "normal"; too much like home and that would never do. So the three featureless walls and the fourth wall which had the outline of a door carved into it were left without decoration and without a feature on which the curly haired guy could fix. There was, in short, nothing to relieve the tedium. The lights in that particular hallway didn't ever go off and neither did they get any dimmer, which helped to throw his body clock off kilter and make him feel disorientated and de-humanised. How was he supposed to know when it was morning, or evening, or time to eat? Not that it really mattered. Nothing really mattered too much any more and so he stared fatalistically at the ceiling and waited.

Eventually, other more pressing issues started to engage Starsky's mind and he rolled himself off of the bed with a slight groan, his back complained by cracking in several different places like firecrackers - the culprit, a three and a half inch mattress, dark green in color and made by "The Easy Relaxer Company". The brunet always snorted at that. As if anyone could relax on that wafer thin piece of foam! He certainly hadn't been able to in the three and a half weeks he'd been here. The absence of sun or window meant that the prison cell had no warmth either. The only warmth its occupant received was from three dark green and paper-thin "Relaxer Company" blankets and his own imagination, which during his incarceration had not been disposed to think about Caribbean Islands or Miami. The overhead air conditioner was vicious and the chilled air it threw into the confined space could not be shut out by the blankets so that Starsky was always cold. The sound of the machinery droned 24/7 slicing into the silence and gnawing at his nerves. Overall – his room is not the most pleasant. Plus mornings – and he presumed it was morning because of the other sounds from other cells - were always dismal.

The curly haired man's bladder was pulsing uncomfortably now. His partner had always told him he had a bladder the size of a pea anyhow, but he didn't want to think about that either. Memories of Hutch were too raw; too painful and so Starsky slipped on his prison issue sandals and crossed the room to his own private buzzer. It was like a doorbell and when pressed, a speaker on the ceiling became an intercom. Expressing his needs was as easy as talking into a hole in the wall for the brunet cop who was lodged in solitary confinement.

After a few seconds, a scratchy voice broke the silence.

'What?'

'I need to go to the bathroom' the brunet grunted, hating the fact that even the free will to relieve himself whenever he wanted had been taken away from him. Although he deserved it, he knew that. It was just so damned difficult to come to terms with, and also fraught with danger when the guards came in. The famous Starsky temper had flared once or twice while he'd been inside and had been quelled equally rapidly by batons and handcuffs, but for the most part, the brunet took whatever treatment was meted out without question. He was a prisoner. He'd committed a crime and he should suffer the consequences.

'Hold on' the disembodied voice answered curtly. After maybe a minute, his door swung open and the cop hurried down the hall towards the small toilet block at the end. The corridor was deserted, lined with similar 10 x 10 foot square compartments that Bay City Penitentiary liked to call cells but there was no need for a guard to accompany him. There was nowhere to run to and no doors left unlocked. The place was on full lock down all the time. The prison was based on the lock down system where the inmates were locked inside their tiny shoeboxes for 23 out of 24 hours per day. They saw no-one, they spoke to no-one and they were given nothing to occupy their minds, the principle being that if they contemplated their actions long enough, they'd begin to self correct – even though most of the inmates on the Eastern Hallway were on remand awaiting trial and had yet to be convicted. More than one man had been dragged from his cell screaming, gone completely mad by the loneliness, but Starsky hated the visits by the guards even more than he hated the hours of silent contemplation and when his door was closed, he felt safe.

The brunet allowed himself the luxury of an extra minute in the urinals. It wasn't the most salubrious place to be, smelling of disinfectant and other, less wholesome odors, but any view that wasn't those four stinking pale grey walls of his cell seemed like luxury and he milked every extra second of escape before reluctantly pulling up the elasticated waist of his dark blue prison issue fatigues and heading back into the corridor. He walked back up the echoing corridor and through the door back into his "house" and went back to lie on his bed with thoughts of freedom on his mind, for the clang of keys and for the directions for the morning. He hadn't slept well, but that was nothing new. He hadn't been sleeping well for months, not since before….. Well not since this whole fucking thing had started, but he guessed he didn't deserve to rest easy either. Not when Hutch was still gravely sick. For a moment he allowed himself to think about the blond. How was he? Was he recovering? Was he even aware of what had happened? Jeez, was Starsky able to make any sense of it yet? The answer to that was probably no. He'd shot Hutch. He'd left him for dead. He deserved to be punished. Period.

'Get up, sweep and mop your rooms, brush your teeth and make your beds! Get up, get up . . . '. The disembodied voice on the intercom sounded loud and made him jump. He was jumpy most of the time these days, not least because right now was the only time when Starsky come into contact with the other inmates on the hallway – and most of those men knew he was a cop and some of them were in the Pen because he'd helped to put them there. One or two had already registered their displeasure at finding that David Michael Starsky was now reduced from Bay City Cop to jail inmate and he had a cracked rib, a black eye and more bruises than he cared to count from his encounters. The guards did nothing except wade in with their batons. But contact was contact, and after 23 days of incarceration, Starsky looked forward to any sort of human contact, painful or otherwise, in a perverse sort of way.

Throwing his towel around his neck and stretching carefully, the brunet shuffled his morning shuffle behind the guy in 254 and in front of the guy in 256 down to the rack of toothbrushes, about faced, and walked into the bathroom. Four sinks, bolted to the wall, provide about seven toothbrushers with a little space and some water. This part wasn't too bad. Starsky could handle this, it was almost like being back at boot camp in the army, except that then, he'd had Traff and his other friends around him, feeling friendship and some happiness, rather than the waves of antagonism and pent up anger that permeated the jail. He looked neither left nor right, not wanting to chance another painful altercation. Once done he wiped his mouth with his rough prison issue towel and threw it into a bin of dirty laundry. He grabbed a broom and mop and trudged back to his room but as he got to the door, he stopped and suddenly his mouth went dry. Waiting inside his small cell, Starsky saw three of the larger guards waiting for him. Any thoughts of the outside and the "normal" world fled and he licked dry lips.

'Well if it aint the dirty pig, come back to clean his pig sty' Guard Grogan muttered, his hand resting lightly on the handle of his baton. 'Come in and close the door behind ya, Blue Eyes, moppin' your rooms a full contact sport, you know that.'

Starsky paused, his knuckles showing white against the handle of his broom. This had been happening now for the past four days. For some reason, Grogan and his buddy Rafferty had taken a shine to him, or at least to a certain portion of his anatomy, and the brunet tried to back up, away from the two large men.

'Where're you goin?' Rafferty asked, taking a step closer. 'Don't ya want any company?'

'No' Starsky said sullenly. His wise cracks had dried up the day he'd seen his partner shot and bleeding at the old fairground. Shot with his bullets from Starsky's own Smith and Wesson held in Starsky's own hand. After that, there didn't seem to be much point in talking, so he kept uncharacteristically quiet.

'Aww, he don't want to play!' Grogan smiled, wolfishly. 'Well aint that a shame? You ought to know by now, you don't have the right to anythin' pig, not even your body. Your ass is ours, literally. Now, you know the score. Assume the position.'

Starsky's indigo blue eyes darted between one guard and the other. They were both taller than he was and heavier by 20 or 30 pounds, although it was all solid muscle. He saw them place their hands on their batons, ready and knew what that meant. In the past four days, they'd enjoyed using him for their pleasures, if not with their bodies, then with those same batons, and the brunet's ass clamped closed reflexively at the memory of the cold hard metal being forcibly pushed into his opening, his muscles cracking and the thin trickle of blood wending it's way down is inner thigh. But there was no escape. There was no blond avenging angel going to come and save him this time. This was no undercover assignment where he could blow the whistle when things got too tough and Dobey would send in the cavalry to get him out. This was real life and he was on the Eastern Hallway awaiting sentence for attempted murder. This time he was on his own and this time he'd have to handle things himself.

Right now, handling things meant either risking a few more broken bones, or complying with the guard's wishes. Rape in prison was taken for granted – not many prisoners got away without the indignity, but with those more handsome inmates, and Starsky definitely fell into that category, the assaults were more frequent and for the most part, more brutal.

Grogan was watching the curly haired prisoner with hawk-like eyes and it was obvious he was just waiting for a chance to get physical. 'I said, assume the position' he repeated, his hand twitching on his baton.

Reluctantly, Starsky got to his knees, the cold concrete of the cell floor biting into his bones through the thin prison issue uniform. He put his hands behind his back and laced his fingers together, staring at a spot on the far wall as he waited for the inevitable. It didn't take long in coming and Rafferty walked towards him in a predatory fashion, the bulge in his trousers tenting his uniform. With his right hand the guard unzipped himself and his phallus sprang out in front of Starsky's face.

'Aww, look what's happened' Rafferty crowed. 'That's all your fault, Blue Eyes. Now you're gonna have to take care of it. Open wide and say aah.'

The brunet refused to look at the rod of flesh bobbing in front of him. He could do this. He'd done it for the past four days, and if it was just oral and not rape, that'd be easier. He deserved this, he knew he did for what he'd done, but his mind rebelled, his body tensing as the flesh came closer.

With a deep breath, and with Rafferty's hands closing around the back of his head, forcing him closer, Starsky opened his mouth and was about to allow the cock entry when the door of his cell was pushed open and a voice from the corridor called in.

'Visit for 02698. Get him ready, he needs to come now.'

'Dammit, I thought I was gonna be the one comin' Rafferty snapped and swiftly zipped himself up. He looked at the prisoner on the ground and snorted. 'Sorry ya won't have the pleasure of me, but there's always this evening Blue Eyes. Now go see which one of your other fans wants to see you.'

Starsky got to his feet with alacrity, thankful for the reprieve and quickly walked out of his cell without a backwards glance. As he got into the corridor he stopped automatically while the third guard pushed him against the wall while he buckled the heavy leather belt round his waist, attaching the cuffs on the strong chains to his wrists and ankles. Shackled and hobbled, the brunet followed in an awkward shuffling gait along the long corridor and turned to the left, through a door into the visiting hall.

As he walked through the door, he looked up, expecting to see his lawyer waiting for him. His breath hitched in his throat however, as he saw the tall blond man standing waiting for him. Hutch looked pale, weary and thin, but he smiled as Starsky appeared and was about to wave with the right hand – the one not held in a sling close to his body. Starsky, however, was not as happy to see the blond as with a small strangled yelp, he turned on his heel and retraced his steps.

'I can't do that boss' he muttered to the guard and without waiting for further instructions, he made his way back to his cell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**** – Two weeks ago**

The room was quiet, as it had been for the week since its occupant had been brought in to lie quietly on the single bed. During that week, doctors and nurses had tended to the blond patient's every need. For the first couple of days, a machine had provided total life support. Gradually, that machine had been taken away, leaving only a ventilator to aid Hutch's damaged and compromised lungs and to give extra oxygen saturation to a body damaged almost fatally by two bullets.

One of the bullets had pierced the topmost vain entering the blond's heart. Blood had poured out onto his chest and he had stopped breathing four times in the ambulance on its journey from the fairground to Memorial hospital. The second had taken a chunk out of his left upper arm and that arm was strapped across his chest to provide some support. Both bullets had come from the most unlikely source ever – David Starsky's gun. What was even more staggering was that David Starsky had fired them…… and it had been no tragic mistake.

So for the first week, machines did the living for Ken Hutchinson while the big blond cop remained blissfully unaware of his circumstances. Some likened his injuries to those Starsky had himself suffered at the hands of James Gunther. Other more sensitive individuals refused to utter Starsky's and Hutch's names in the same sentence, feeling that for whatever reason, a friendship which had seemed so unshakably strong had been tragically ripped apart. Whatever had occurred, it seemed to those who knew them well that the powerful, dynamic and steadfast partnership that had been Starsky and Hutch had been dissolved permanently by the curly haired cop's actions.

The enforced rest, and Hutch's incredible physical fitness before the tragedy had however, worked miracles so that by the beginning of the second week in hospital, the blond cop was beginning to show signs of wanting to breathe on his own. So strong were those signs that after another two days, Hutch actually started to fight the ventilator and so the doctors took the decision to remove the hose from his throat and see how he managed. There were one or two false starts, during which the nurse with the ambubag had her work cut out forcing air into the blond's lungs, but then, after some coughing and spluttering, Hutch took the law firmly into his own hands and started to breathe on his own.

That day there was some muted celebration in the small hospital room. Captain Dobey, who had been very close to the hospital throughout the past 10 days made cautious telephone calls to Dr and Mrs Hutchinson to say that their son was showing signs of getting better and the two parents made an unprecedented visit to see their eldest child. Although Hutch was still unconscious, his Mom held his hand, awkwardly, to be sure, but she held it nonetheless and his Father did all the doctorly things and none of the fatherly things that would be expected. He spoke with the surgeons, conversed with the anaesthetists and patted his son calmly on the shoulder. Once the two senior Hutchinsons were convinced that Hutch would make it, they departed with a hasty kiss and promises to stay in touch, which neither of them had any intention of keeping.

During the days that followed, other visitors came and went. Dobey's wife, Edith brought flowers and a potted plant and their daughter Rosey, now a stunning girl of 16 came to sit by her honorary uncle and talk to him for a while. Huggy Bear could hardly keep away. His vigils late at night were a source of consternation for the nursing staff, but as the lanky black man pointed out, it was always during the night when sick people felt worse, and it seemed stupid to make them face the hours of darkness by themselves. Seeing the force of the argument, and seeing also that Hutch seemed to respond well to the bartender, the staff turned a blind eye to the visitor and got on with their duties.

On the morning of the ninth day, Hutch opened his eyes. They were unfocused and showed little recognition for a few seconds, but then he asked the inevitable in a weak and scratchy voice.

'Starsk?'

It had been Huggy's turn to visit and the old time friend had watched the blond get progressively more restless during the night. He knew that soon Hutch would wake and had been mentally preparing himself for the moment, knowing it would be tough on one half of the famous partnership. He stood and leaned lightly over the bed.

'Hey, Hutch my man. Good to see those baby blues again!'

The "baby blues" regarded Huggy calmly for a moment as Hutch processed the fact that soulful brown eyes met his and not the usual indigo blues.

'Heeeyyyyy' he managed to sigh, although talking seemed far too energetic an endeavour.

'Welcome back to the land of the living and breathing. You had us all worried for a while' Huggy pressed on.

'How…..long?'

'Over a week Blondie. That's one helluva lie in! I was beginning to think you were never gonna wake up.'

'I…. Starsk……where's Starsky?'

Huggy had dreaded this moment, but he knew it would come. A friendship so unshakable couldn't be dissolved like that, and in the past, their partner's name had been the first thing on their lips when either man had been hurt. This was just one more time when Hutch had more regards for his brunet partner than for himself.

'He's um….. he's gone away for a while. He's ok….he's fine. He's just…. He's not here' Huggy tailed off lamely.

'Noooo……Starsk…… not his ffffault' Hutch started to moan, his head rolling on the pillow as he closed his eyes in pain. Immediately, Huggy rang the bell for the nurse and in moments, the room was full of nursing staff and a couple of doctors.

By that time however, Hutch had managed to get himself into such a state that they had no alternative but to sedate him again and finally, he rested back, uneasily, his eyes fluttering as he tossed restlessly on the bed.

From that time on, each time the blond awoke it was the same. The first question on his lips was "where's Starsky?" and then he would become agitated to the point where it looked as though he may hurt himself at which time more sedatives were deployed. As he got stronger, the doctors became convinced that sedatives were not the way to go. Although it was easier to reason with the blond as he became stronger and more lucid, it was also more difficult to stop him from really hurting himself and once or twice he'd become so restless that the medics had had no alternative but to use soft medical restraints to anchor him to the bed to stop him from dislodging or tearing at his stitches.

By day thirteen, Dobey knew something had to be done and he made some phone calls to the 8th Battalion on the outskirts of the city. Fortunately, Lieutenant Colonel Tom (Traff) Trafford had just come back from South America and as soon as he'd heard what happened, he set off for Memorial hospital to visit with Hutch.

The tall dark haired soldier walked easily down the corridor and into the small private room, taking in the pale frame secured to the bed by broad leather, sheepskin lined straps with a sigh. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the hard plastic chair, waiting until the patient awoke naturally from his restless sleep. As Hutch took a deeper breath and opened his eyes to look around, he met Traff's emerald green eyes head on and the blond frowned.

'Traff! What're ya doin' here buddy?'

'I heard you needed a friend. I just wanted to call in and say hi.'

'Bullshit' Hutch spat weakly and closed his eyes.

'Well is that any way to talk to your friends? What's bullshit?'

'You bein' here. What did they tell ya? Hutch is bein' difficult. He's gonna hurt himself. Go an' see if ya can talk some sense into him.'

'Aww jeez! You overheard! They're worried for ya buddy, plain and simple. And I am too. You need to rest and get your strength back.'

'I need to find out where Starsky is. No-one will tell me. Every time I mention his name they clam up and go all broodin'. Traff, you won't lie to me. Where is he? Is he hurt? Is that why he hasn't been to see me? Is that why he aint here? I know he aint dead, I can feel it, but….'

Traff looked sadly at the blond. No wonder he was in such a state if no one had the guts to explain to him exactly what had gone on. The soldier took a deep breath.

'How much do you remember?'

'Enough. The fairground, that fuckin' guy. And Starsk. He had a gun an' he shot at me. It wasn't his fault.'

'That's not what he says Pal' Traff said quietly.

'Not what….you've seen him? Where is he? What do you mean it's not what he says?' Hutch's voice rose as he pulled ineffectually at the restraints round his wrists.

'No, I haven't seen him, but your Captain has, briefly. And from what he says, Starsky admits he…. Hutch, he says he meant to do it buddy. He says the shooting was no accident.'

'No, that's not true. Starsky would never do that. Why would he? We were…are partners. Why would he shoot me? Where is he? I need to see him.'

'You can't buddy, you need to get well.'

'Why can't I? C'mon Traff, you know the score, please. Just let me see him an' we can get back to normal an' I can get out of this hell hole.'

Traff looked pained and put a hand on Hutch's restrained right arm. 'Hutch I don't want ya gettin' riled up buddy. You can't see him. No-one can. He's um…..he's in Bay City Penitentiary. He's been there since the shooting.'

'The Pen! No…Shit no. Why? Lemme see him. Let me….oh fuck, Traff, noooo.' Hutch started struggling on the bed until Traff stood and took a hold of his thin frame, bodily hugging him until his struggles abated slightly. Hutch sagged against the soldier's shoulder, his head buried in Traff's uniform and although he was unable to hold his friend because of the medical restraints holding him down, he rested his forehead on Traff's shoulder, his own body shaking.

'It can't be' he whispered. 'It can't be….Starsky…..what did ya do buddy…..why?...why?'

'I can only tell ya what they've told me. I'm sorry Hutch' Traff said, reluctantly letting go of Hutch's shoulders and easing the man back down onto the bed.

'He's been there all the time? Why? What's he charged with?' the blond asked quietly.

Traff nodded. 'Yeah, he gave himself up right after he shot you. Even put the cuffs on himself. The um…..the charge is attempted murder.'

Hutch's face crumpled and he closed his eyes, shutting out the world for a moment until he could process the devastating information he'd just been given.

'He didn't do it on purpose, an' I'm gonna find out why. I have to…..I'm gonna deal with this Traff. Thanks….. for bein' so honest.'

'I just wish I could've given ya better news buddy, but I'm with you all the way. I'll help an' you're right. We are gonna get to the bottom of this.'

Eventually, exhausted by his emotions, Hutch slept while the curly headed soldier kept a watch over him. Traff wiped the sheen of perspiration from Hutch's forehead and unbuckled the restraints from round his wrists, knowing that the blond had reached a turning point and would no longer need them. As he watched over his friend, he wondered what would cause Starsky to act so completely out of character. What would cause him to turn in such a devastating fashion against Hutch, the man he'd sworn to protect like a brother? Although he wracked his brain, he came up empty. Some things just seemed to have no answers.

From that day forward, the blond had been calmer and had made great progress in his recovery, supported by Dobey, Huggy and Traff. The soldier had some leave coming to him and so he moved himself into Hutch's apartment with a view to looking after the blond and he visited every day until, 19 days after his admission, Hutch was released home with cautions to take it easy and come back for regular check ups.

Five days after his release, Hutch persuaded Traff to drive him over to the jail and he waited in trepidation in the visitors' hall to see his buddy. He remembered little of the actual shooting, knowing only that Starsky had acted oddly in the days leading up to it. The one thing he knew for sure was that he didn't blame Starsky in the slightest. Something devastating had happened to the brunet and he needed to know what it was.

As the door opened and his partner shuffled into the visiting hall, shackled and chained, Hutch's heart had missed a beat. He smiled and started to wave, expecting Starsky to want to talk. It was like an ice cold blade through his heart when the brunet took one look at him, turned on his heel and shuffled away without acknowledging him in any way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

'Starsky! STARSKY ….. for God's sake Staaarsk….oh shit' Hutch shouted after his partner's retreating back before clutching at his chest with his right hand. He staggered backward and tripped over one of the chairs in the visiting hall, landing heavily on the hard wooden surface. He bent over, head close to his knees as he battled with the angina-like pains in his chest and fought to breathe. Having only been out of hospital a few days, he really shouldn't have been there. Hell, he shouldn't even have been out of bed, but he'd persuaded Traff to drive him over to the prison after phoning and speaking with the warden.

The door to the hall opened on the public side and the soldier rushed through, skidding to a halt next to the blond. Traff fell to his knees in front of his friend and looked up into Hutch's face.

'What's up buddy? Where's Curly? Are they keeping you waiting?'

Hutch looked up, his face still crumpled in pain and shook his head. 'He came in, took one look at me and left. What've I done at him that he doesn't want to see me? How can he be like that?'

Traff looked perplexed. 'I have no clue Pal. Who knows what's goin' through that curly head? But you have to understand he must be hurtin so much.'

'Uh huh? Well so am I. God knows I'm not a selfish guy, but fuck Traff. I just wanted to see him.'

'Didn't he even stop to say hello?' Traff asked.

'He didn't even stop to draw breath. But he looks like shit. He's hurt. He has a black eye, and he's walkin' like he's hurt.'

'You got all that from the few seconds you saw him?'

The blond snickered. 'I've worked with the guy day in, day out for years. I know him better'n I know myself. Or at least I thought I did. I've seen him hurt too many times not to notice. He kinda walks stiff, like he's tryin' not to breathe too deep? And he was walkin' like that today. I need to see Warden Mallozzi.'

'You need to come home and get some rest buddy. Look at ya. You're all in and you're obviously in pain. C'mon. We can try again in a few days. Maybe then Curly will have worked some stuff out.'

'We're here now. Just help me up an' we can go an' see the Warden. He might have some answers. Maybe Starsky's already spoken to him. Who knows? I can't leave him like this' Hutch pleaded.

'You can't do much about it Pal. This is a jail, not a hospital. You can't just sign a slip an' take him home ya know.'

'I gotta do somethin'.'

Traff saw it was no use arguing. The Hutchinson stubborn streak had gotten the blond through the days of fever and the pains of his recovery. Now it was hell bent on making sure his brunet partner was, if not ok, then at least well looked after. And to be honest, Traff too wanted answers about his long time friend too. This was so out of character that he felt like he was in one of those science fiction films where a doppelganger comes down to earth and takes over some unsuspecting man's body. Unfortunately, this was reality and not some film, and Starsky, Traff and Hutch were caught in the middle of the tortuous reality.

With a stifled hiss, Hutch lurched to his feet and leaning heavily on Traff, the two men made their way from the room and along the corridor back to the reception hall. Hutch rapped on the glass bandit screen of the reception desk and when the young woman greeted him, he asked to see Warden Mallozzi. The girl looked sceptical but said she'd make the call and a moment later came back to say that the Warden would see them there and then.

After a wait of no more than five minutes, a uniformed guard walked into the reception hall and led them through long corridors and up some steps to a top floor corridor and to a large corner office. By the time the long walk was over, Hutch was gasping for breath and weary, the pains in his chest burning with lack of oxygen. He stopped for a moment outside the large office and got himself together before knocking on the door and waiting for the voice inside to tell him to come in.

Warden Alfred Mallozzi was an old friend of Captain Dobey. And ex cop who had found himself a new career path, he was a huge bear of a man with a round, genuine face, bright honest eyes and a smile so wide that it lit up a room. Unlike a lot of other Wardens, he genuinely cared for the inmates in his facility and although he couldn't keep his eyes on every corner of the prison, he earned respect from prisoners and most of the guards alike. He had a head of steel grey hair atop a bronzed face and as the two men walked into his office he stood, flashed a grin at Hutch, nodded at Traff and invited them to sit down.

'So, how is he?' Mallozzi asked as he poured coffee for both men.

'I have no idea. He wouldn't even speak to me' Hutch admitted bitterly.

'He wouldn't huh? Well, you have to understand that jail affects men in different ways. Starsky has only been with us a short time. Maybe he just takes more time than usual to settle down.'

'No, you don't understand Sir' Hutch interrupted. 'He's hurt. He's bruised and I could tell he was hurt. I want him out. I need him safe.'

The warden smiled sadly. 'If I could get him out, don't you think I would? I have no idea what his motives were for what he did. Hell, he's on remand, I don't even know if he did what he's supposed to have done. That isn't my job gentlemen. But as for getting him out of here? I can't do it, and I know you know that. Ken, believe me, I know how tough this is for you, and if you're telling me that he's picked up injuries while he's been in here, then I will certainly make investigations into them. But as for protection, he's in solitary. I don't know how much safer I can make him and I'm sure he already sees solitary confinement as an added punishment.'

'I know you're doing what you can Sir' Traff nodded. 'I think what Hutch is saying is that Curl….Starsky isn't acting normally, not even half way normal considering he's locked up. Isn't there anything you can do?'

'Can't you force him to see me?' Hutch asked.

Mallozzi shook his head. 'I'm sorry Ken. He may be my prisoner, but he still has some rights, and one of those is choosing who he wants to see. If he won't see you, I can't make him, and it wouldn't do any good even if I could.'

Hutch sighed. 'I know. I'm just….. I can't handle seeing him like this. It's not him.' The blond snorted. 'Neither is shooting me. Something made him do it, but as to what….'

Mallozzi watched as Traff put a reassuring hand on Hutch's shoulder, and came to a decision.

'This is highly irregular, but God knows I owe my life to Harold Dobey countless times over and I know what it's like to be out on the streets with a partner and to trust your life to another man. Here's what I can do. I can't force him to see you, but I can force Starsky to see the prison psychiatrist. Maybe if he undergoes some counselling, he can start to deal with what's happened? We're having a lot of success at the moment with hypnotism, maybe that would help?'

Traff looked hopefully at his buddy. 'What do you think?'

'I dunno. Hypnotism? He needs help, not to squawk like a chicken or bark like a dog. And it don't work for everyone. I know I can't be hypnotised, one of my Dad's friends once tried it out on me.'

The Warden shook his head. 'This is therapeutic, but you're right, not everyone can be hypnotised. But it's worth a try, isn't it? It's the best I can offer.'

For a moment both men considered. 'Ok Sir. Please, if you can organise it, it's worth a try. Shit anything is worth a try at this stage.'

Mallozzi smiled. 'I'll organise it and I'll make sure the doctor tapes the sessions. We might be able to use some of the information. And that way, you'll still be able to see your friend, even if it is second hand. Now I need you to go home and rest. You're still recovering, I know. There's nothing more you can do here son' the Warden said kindly. 'Just leave it to us huh?'

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Starsky shuffled back to his cell without a backwards glance. Feeling raw, and angry at himself as he did, there was no way that he could face seeing Hutch. The glance he'd had at his partner made him realise just how close he'd come to killing him. Hell, in his frenzy, that had been his aim all along and only fortune had made his aim faulty.

Hutch had looked frail, sick and old beyond his years, but the look of eagerness and compassion in those crystal blue eyes had been what had made Starsky bolt for the door and he'd managed to make it back to his cell in double time, despite the chains round his ankles hobbling him and impeding his gait. At the cell door, he waited while the guard removed the cuffs from ankles and wrists and unbuckled the heavy leather belt from round his waist and then, with a sigh of relief, he heard the door to his cell clang closed as he flung himself down on the hard, narrow bunk. Wearily, he laced his fingers behind his head, led on his back and stared at the annoying spider shaped stain on the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to wander back to the beginning of the whole sorry tale, for the first time since he'd voluntarily given himself up.

'_Hutchinson, Starsky, I want you in my office now' Dobey's voice sounded loud in the confines of the office and reluctantly, the two detectives got up, poured another cup of coffee and headed into the inner sanctum. Starsky also took a tidy sheaf of papers with him and as they sat down, he placed them on Dobey's desk. The Captain eyes them suspiciously._

'_What's that?'_

'_My expenses, added up, indexed and filed to within an inch of their lives' the brunet smiled, obviously pleased with himself. The Captain, however, had other plans for them and merely brushed the paper clipped pile to one side._

'_We got bigger fish to fry than expenses' he announced and opened a large buff coloured folder on the desk in front of him. 'I want you two to go out to the Willows Children's Home out on East Shore Drive. We've had a report that they've found a skeleton under the floorboards and they want cops down there right now.'_

'_Skeleton under the floorboards? A skeleton? It's hardly homicide Cap'n. Shouldn't you be getting' the coronor's office involved instead of us?' Hutch asked, trying to read the file upside down._

'_When I say I want you down there, Hutchinson, I mean I want you down there. I know the difference between a cop car and a coroner's wagon. So get off those chairs and get your buts down to the home huh?'_

_Starsky beamed at his partner as he stood up and retrieved his expenses sheets. 'God he's magnificent when he's angry, aint he?' he said as he made for the door._

'_What did he just say?' Dobey thundered._

'_He um…. He said have a nice day Cap'n' Hutch said smoothly as he followed Starsky out into the corridor.'_

Starsky's musings were interrupted by a noise at his door and as he pushed himself into a sitting position on his bunk, the door opened as Rafferty the guard came in. The brunet eyed him suspiciously, it being highly unusual for him to see anyone during the day. His only contact with human beings in the past 3 weeks had been the hour of "communal time" per day and the visits he had had with the lawyer that the state had provided for him.

The guard leered at him as he closed the door behind him.

'Thought you'd escaped earlier did ya? You ought to know that eye candy like you gets plenty of attention in a place like this.'

Ordinarily, Starsky would have been swift to retort, some wisecrack never far from his lips. But since the incident that had brought him here, he had no energy left for clever responses and no fight left in him and so instead of opening his mouth, he conserved his energy, accepting that what was to come was fair retribution for what he'd done to his best friend.

It didn't stop him backing up on his bunk, however, as Rafferty bore down on him and he finally felt the cold, hard wall at his back, meaning he could back no further. Starsky sighed and waited.

'Stand up when a guard talks to you' Rafferty commanded.

Reluctantly, the brunet got to his feet and stood, hands at his sides and his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. The big man wielding the baton seemed pleased.

'Now take off your shirt and lets see what you've got to offer.'

Again, there would have been a time when the curly haired cop would have answered with his fists and with a smart retort, but circumstances had changed him and with a sickly knowledge of what was to come, Starsky pulled the rough denim shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

Rafferty cast an appreciative eye over the lightly furred, olive toned skin, it's silvery surgical scars standing out white in the harsh glare of the cell's neon light. Lightly, the guard traced one of the longer ones with his finger from just above Starsky's navel upwards towards his throat. His hand loitered mid chest and playfully squeezed a nipple, staring into his captive's face as he saw indigo eyes narrow. There was no other reaction however and Rafferty grinned to himself. It was refreshing to find a guy who didn't fight him all the way and roughly he put his hands on Starsky's shoulders forcing him down to his knees.

Rafferty opened his zip with his free hand, the other being entwined in the brunet's curls and as his cock sprang free from its prison, he snorted softly.

'You know what to do. Show me how good you are with those lips, cop, and maybe you'll get a reward.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The brunet shook as he collapsed back onto his bunk. The pains in the core of his body reminded him of the indignity of Rafferty's visit, which had lasted one long, painful and harrowing hour. At the end of it, Starsky felt sore, dirty and broken and even the guard's promises that the brunet was "his little puppy now" and that Rafferty wouldn't allow anyone else to lay a hand on him had not assuaged the curly haired cop's fears for his wellbeing. The guard was a big man, not only in stature, and both Starsky's jaw and ass felt stretched beyond belief. The man hadn't been content with defiling his prisoner just once and had repeatedly assaulted the brunet over the hour until he'd finally looked at his watch, zipped himself up with a sigh and had left the cell with promises to be back soon.

Starsky had yet to check whether blood had been drawn this time, although he thought he could feel the familiar trickle down the inside of his leg. Yet it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. His whole world was reduced down to these four walls because of what he'd done. He deserved it. He deserved the degradation and the hurt. He deserved to feel like he was the lowest of the low. He'd tried to kill his partner, the only man in his life he'd always promised to save from harm. Starsky didn't understand what had driven him to do it. He had no recollection of the actual act and his first thoughts upon seeing Hutch unconscious and bleeding on the ground, and the gun hot in his hands had been to snap his own cuffs onto his own wrists and go to sit quietly in the nearest black and white until he was driven away to the Metro and Dobey's questioning. Self hatred was too kind a description for the feelings Starsky held inside him. He felt as though, if he had it to hand, he'd turn his gun against his own temple and pull the trigger.

With a shaky sigh, he laid back down on his bunk, hissing quietly as he tried to get comfortable, and slowly his eyes drifted closed.

_The drive to the children's home took the two cops along the coast road past the dunes and to the other side of the pier stretching out to sea. Those who knew of the existence of the home thought it a wonderful place to have an orphanage. If the poor mites missed out on having parents, then at least they could enjoy the freedom __of the beach, and feel the sea breeze though their hair. There had been nothing other than good reports about the home. It seemed progressive and fair and housed over its 25 year history over 300 boys and girls from the poorer sectors of Bay City society. It had closed over three years ago after social reform dictated that orphans should be given the opportunity to have a proper family life and the thrust of care had changed from care in a home to care in foster families. Now the building stood empty, casting a baleful gaze from dusty windows out across the shore road. Gulls had taken up residence in the topmost floors of the semi derelict building and the same children who had once been sheltered in its hallowed portals now threw stones at the windows, putting the glass through. Sand blew up in miniature dunes against the door and the steps and the old curtains blew desolately in the wind._

_The red and white Torino drew up outside the big stone building and the two detectives got out. The yellow and red police tape fluttered around the site, making it look incongruously festive considering the ghoulish reason for Starsky and Hutch's visit. They ducked underneath the perimeter tape and flashed their shields to the two uniformed officers on patrol by the gate. The men had their work cut out fending off the usual rubber neckers who wanted to get a good look at the human remains as they were exhumed from the cellars of the orphanage and they smiled as the two detectives walked past._

'_Jeez, it never fails to amaze me how ghoulish these guys are' Hutch said as he walked up the narrow path to the doorway._

'_Yeah, I know what you mean buddy. I guess they should try our job for a while huh? Seen one dead body, seen 'em all.'_

_They went inside the dark building where they were met by the coroner and the photographer from the forensics department._

'_What've ya got Ed?' Starsky asked._

'_From the looks of it, at least three skeletons in the cellar. They look to be child sized although I can't tell the sexes yet. They were pretty much disturbed and tangled all together, but I'd say they'd been there a good few years. The earth was fairly well compacted over them and it looks like someone took a deal of care to make sure they weren't discovered.'_

_They had reached the top of some steep steps down into the basement. Hutch borrowed a flashlight from one of the guys keeping guard. He switched it on, the blazing beam piercing the darkness as they cautiously walked down the stone steps into the darkness. The blond repressed a shudder. There was a dank, damp smell down in the bowels of the building and with it the all pervading smell of death carried on the slight breeze through the network of interconnecting cellars._

_Towards the back of the room and a little to one side of the steps, the earth floor had been disturbed and more police tape had been used to cordon off the area. Spades were laid on the compacted earth and three zippered body bags lay to one side, awaiting inspection. As Hutch shone his flashlight into the hole from where they'd obviously come, Starsky hunkered down by the side of the first one and undid the zipper. He reeled at the smell of decay and even his hardened police experience did little to prepare him for the sight of the badly decomposed remains. Pieces of skin and hair still clung to the skull of what had obviously been a young person and as he unzipped the bag further, he realised it had been stripped naked. Imagination started to run riot and the brunet thought about the unfortunate individual's last moment alive. Had they been scared? Had they known what was happening? Starsky jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder._

'_Ed thinks there could be more bodies' Hutch said as he too looked at the grisly remains._

'_More? Fuck! They're only kids! Who'd do this to kids, huh? Didn't they have enough problems in the world without meeting this kind of an end?' the curly headed cop complained bitterly._

_His partner nodded. 'This children's home was always so well thought of. Ed doesn't know at the moment how long they've been here. The cellar is cold and reasonably dry, so it may have helped preserve the bodies longer than normal. He'll be able to give us a full report within the next 48 hours.'_

_Starsky gave an involuntary shiver and stood up, unconsciously putting distance between himself and the corpses. 'Let's get outa here' he muttered and made a swift exit up from the cellar into the relative light of the upstairs of the building. For a while, both detectives poked around the large house, looking into the myriad of bedrooms and bathrooms on the first and second floors. In its heyday the home looked as though it could have accommodated at least 70 children all in long bunk rooms and some of the small wooden bunks still remained in place, other rooms having been made slightly more homely in appearance and obviously changed to be occupied by smaller groups of three or four._

_There seemed to be no evidence of struggles or any other signs of habitation for months past, the only life being the occasional rat scuttering away into the skirting boards, and a family of bats up in the loft and so the two men called it a day, made the notes they needed to and walked back down the broad staircase and out into the warm afternoon sunshine. _

_It felt to them as though they'd been released from prison almost and Starsky stood on the top step of the pathway, blinking in the bright light and allowing the sun to warm through his leather jacket. The inside of the house seemed permeated with death and fear and it felt good to be outside. He pulled deep lungfulls of air into his body as though clearing out the dirty air from the inside and as Hutch joined him, they made their way down the path between the ranks of weeds overgrowing the concrete and towards the gate._

_The uniformed officers were still there, as were the usual brigade of old ladies and children come to see the spectacle. Amongst them were a few middle aged men and as Starsky and Hutch ducked back under the tape and made their way to the car, one of the faceless crowd looked at them carefully. As the Torino's engine started and it drove away, that same man tapped one of the flatfoots on the shoulder. Joe Turner turned, ready for the usual ghoulish questions._

'_Who were they?' the man asked._

'_Huh?'_

'_The two detectives. Are they investigating the murders?'_

'_We don't know if they're murders' Joe said easily. 'We won't know anything until we have the coroner's report.'_

'_But you're treating them like murders. They were detectives, right?' the man persisted._

'_Yeah, Sergeants Starsky and Hutchinson. They work homicide' Joe explained._

'_Homicide huh? So it is a murder.'_

_Turner sighed. 'If that's what ya want to think, fine. But like I said….'_

'_Hitchinson you say?'_

'_No Hutchinson H.U. Why?'_

_The man shook his head. 'Nothing I was just wondering. See ya.'_

_Joe shook his head. He'd been on the force 26 years and the public never failed to amaze him with their attitude to crime. As the man walked away, Turner returned to his business._

Starsky's eyes shot open as he heard another noise outside his door. He watched in sick fascination as the door handle turned and he braced himself for a return visit from Rafferty. What was it with the guy? He wore a wedding ring. Wasn't he getting enough at home or something? The brunet pushed himself upright on the bunk in readiness as the door opened, but it was one of the other guards that poked his head round the door.

'02698? Legal visit' the guard said abruptly.

'I'm not due another legal, boss' Starsky said, his encounter with Rafferty having left him feeling distrustful of everyone and everything in this place.

'I don't make the rules, I just bring the prisoners. On your feet and assume the position.'

Curious, Starsky got up slowly. He'd learned in his first few days in jail that all movements should be slow and deliberate. Any sudden moves made the guards jumpy and a jumpy guard usually led to more bruises somewhere down the line. He turned his back on the man and stood against the far wall of his cell, legs 12 inches apart and hands braced against the wall, where the man could see them. He felt the hard leather belt circle his waist and the guard pulled it tight at the back, buckling it into place. The strong silver chain hung down from the D ring in the front and the anklets dangled next to his feet. The guard bent down and snapped one onto each ankle and then stood. Obediently, the brunet turned and allowed matching bracelets to be snapped around his wrists. The process was dehumanising, allowing him neither the ability to stride out, or to reach for anything. But again, he knew he deserved it. He'd done wrong. No, he'd done more than wrong. He'd done something so bad that he didn't want to live with himself. He couldn't handle the memories and so he didn't argue or pass comment.

Starsky walked by the side of the guard down the corridors to the visiting rooms for the second time that day, but this time, he was shown into a small room cut in half by a bullet proof screen. It had a desk in its middle which was also bifurcated by the screen with a chair at either side. As he walked in, expecting the small, balding and bespectacled lawyer the state had provided, he gave start. Sitting in the lawyer's place was Elizabeth Abraham, beautiful woman and a lawyer he'd once dated and who had since gone on to bigger and better things running her own private practice.

The brunet felt the door close behind him and with no hopes of telling anyone he didn't want the visit, he shuffled slowly forwards and sat down on the plastic chair bolted to the floor. He refused to meet Liz's eyes, but the woman was more direct and fixed him with piercing moss green eyes. She flicked her long chestnut hair over her shoulder, opened a pad and then looked up.

'So, tell me from the top what happened. We need to get your defence under way and we need to do it now' she said calmly.

'What are you doing here?' Starsky asked, his voice a flat monotone and his eyes dull and lifeless. The woman's heart bled for the man she had known to be a brunet dynamo.

'I'm here because you need the best, which is me. And also because Hutch sent me. He wants me to defend you at trial, and to be honest Dave, I didn't need much persuading. So, tell me what happened.'

Starsky looked up and snorted softly. 'I shot him. I tried to kill him. There aint no defence, so don't waste your time. I'm not goin' to trial.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

'I don't need a lawyer. There's nunthin to say. I shot him, I aimed to kill. What else am I supposed to tell ya?' Starsky's dull, listless eyes focused on the woman for the first time since he'd entered the room and Liz got her first good look at her ex boyfriend.

It had been a couple of years since they'd dated and they had been close for a quite a while. Starsky had always been easy going and a caring, considerate lover and try as she might, the beautiful lawyer couldn't imagine him turning a gun on anyone in pure anger, let alone trying to kill his partner in cold blood. Starsky and Hutch were like night and day or salt and pepper. They went together and in the end it had been the closeness of the two men that had broken up her and the brunet's relationship. She couldn't handle the fact that Hutch was always there in the background. When Starsky had been poisoned by Bellamy's injection, she had taken it badly that it had been Hutch that Starsky had telephone for help first. In fact she had known nothing about her boyfriend's flirtation with death until the day after when she got a weary phone call from the blond and had visited a pale, weak but very much alive Starsky in the hospital. There was nothing on earth would make Liz Abraham believe that Starsky would try to kill Hutch. It was like saying that Romeo would dump Juliet or Elizabeth Taylor could live without Richard Burton.

'I'm not buying that Dave. There must be something that happened before the shooting. I want you to think carefully.'

'I don't wanna think about it. Just leave it Liz. It's too raw, too painful. I did it and I'm fucked. What more do you want me to say?' There was such a look of hopelessness in those familiar indigo eyes that for a moment Liz looked away, unable to trust her voice.

'I can help you….if you'll let me. I can't believe that you'd do that to him. Not without provocation or something. Had you argued? Was there someone else involved?'

'No to both questions. We were investigating a case, nothing more.'

'What sort of case? Was it difficult or upsetting?' Liz pushed on.

'Difficult, no. Upsetting? I dunno. It got to me I guess. I started having nightmares.'

'Tell me about them. Tell me about the case.'

'It's useless, Liz. Why should I bother? If I hadn't been such a rotten shot, he'd be dead by now. How'm I supposed to live with that huh? I deserve to be in here. I deserve everythin' that's thrown at me an' I aint gonna complain'

'Everything that's…. Dave, are they treating you ok? How did you get the bruises?' Liz asked, searching the curly haired man's face for answers. Indigo eyes slid sideways and refused to meet her gaze.

'M'fine.'

'No, you're not fine. Have they hurt you?'

'No more'n I deserve.'

Liz's temper rose. 'Dave, for God's sake! Stop that. This isn't the Starsky I knew. That man would never give up and just accept what was happening.'

'That Starsky wouldn't shoot Hutch would he?' Starsky yelled bitterly. 'I don't know what happened. I don't know and I don't care. All I know is I hurt him and I need to be punished and if that means….' He clamped his mouth shut and studied the manacles around his wrists.

'Means what? What are they doing to you? Dave, please. Let me in. Tell me and I can stop it.' Liz wished the screen in the interview room wasn't there. She wished she could gather up her ex boyfriend and hug him to her. She'd never seen him look so small, so alone and frankly, so scared.

'It doesn't matter.'

'Do they beat you?' she asked.

'When I deserve it.'

'That's not it, is it? Have they…. Oh my God, Dave have they….That's it, isn't it? They….'

'Shuddup. You wanted to know about the case, fine. Settle down and take notes. I'm only gonna say it once.'

Liz sighed heavily. 'Fine, you always were stubborn. Have it your way.' She clicked the cartridge on her ballpoint pen and poised it above her pad. 'Go on.'

Starsky started to tell her about the case. And the instructions they had from Dobey to go to the children's home. He told her about the 3 skeletons and the journey back to the Metro.

'We got back from the home by the middle of the afternoon and Hutch started doin' some diggin' into who'd owned it, and the residents who'd been there since the place was opened. He was lookin' for any of 'em who we might have known, any that we might have come across professionally, ya know. There were one or two of the boys who'd grown up and left the home and gone on to become petty burglars. One of them had been put away for arson, but none of them had done anything worse. By the end of the afternoon, we'd gone through dozens of files, but there had been hundreds of kids passed through that place in its time, and we couldn't be expected to find everyone.'

'So did you follow up on the ones convicted of petty crime?' Liz asked, glad that Starsky was finally talking.

'Yeah, we had records pull their files and spent a merry day the next day lookin' through them. Look where is this leading? The case has nuthin to do with what I did. Nuthin! Why do I have to tell you about it?' Starsky's voice rose as his face flushed with anger.

'Because I'm your lawyer, and I want to hear it? Why are you getting so riled up about it Dave?'

'I'm not' Starsky muttered defensively, although he felt antsy and wanted to jump up and run out of the room. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. Why did he feel so bad? Why did thinking about that last case get him so bent over? The answers weren't apparent and he sighed, concentrating on the beautiful girl across the desk from him instead.

'Sorry. It's this place. It gets to me and I miss Hu…. I miss bein' able to get out.'

'Well tell me more and I can maybe rectify that. Work with me Dave. Throw me a line here huh? You were saying that you pulled the files and didn't find anything. What did you do then?'

Starsky bent his head down so that he could scratch the side of his nose with one manacled hand. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and thought. What did they do? Nothing out of the ordinary. 'We went out and visited a couple of the boys who'd left the home. They didn't know nuthin but they did say that while they'd been there had been a guy – one of the teachers that everyone hated. They didn't think he'd done nuthin, but he was creepy.'

'So, you had a guy. Did you get his name?' Liz asked.

'They called him Edgar. Edgar…. Edgar……fuck Liz, why are ya askin' me this? Just beat it huh? He aint got nuthin to do with any of this. He didn't do nuthin! He didn't….' Starsky's voice rose again and this time, he got up out of his seat, his face inches from the glass screen separating them. If it hadn't been for the barrier, Liz felt sure he would have tried to get at her, and in her surprise, she rocked backwards on her chair, almost overbalancing.

In an instant, two guards came bursting into the room on Starsky's side. It was evident they'd been stationed outside the door and as Liz watched in horror, one of them took hold of the brunet's arms while the other put an arm across Starsky's throat, cutting off his airway. The curly haired prisoner sputtered, his face turning red as he continued to yell at Liz. 'Edgar didn't do nuthin. It was nuthin to do with him. He wasn't there. He didn't see nuthin'

The lawyer tried to knock on the glass screen, to tell the guards to leave the manacled man alone, but Starsky was fighting them all the way and despite the belt and chains, he was making it tough for them to hang onto him. As Liz looked on in horror, one of the big men drew his baton and clubbed Starsky over the back of the head with it, before driving the point of it into the brunet's stomach. Poleaxed, the smaller man went down without another word, his knees crumpling so that his body hung limply between the two guards.

'Dave! Dave…. Leave him alone. He wasn't gonna hurt anyone. He was….Dave!' Liz shouted through the screen.

'We'll be taking him back to his cell, Miss' Guard#1 grunted as they dragged the inert body between them through the doors. Liz stood still, watching the empty space long after the brunet had been taken away. Slowly, she gathered her belongings together and pushed them into her document case, turned on her heel, wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket and rapped on the door to be let out of the interview room.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hutch opened the door to see Liz Abraham waiting for him. He smiled at her and invited her in, watching the flash of chestnut hair as she walked past him and sat down on the sofa, arranging her documents around her. He sat down besides her while Traff took the chair and both men waited expectantly for the woman to start.

'He's adamant that he's guilty' she said without preamble. 'He wouldn't even talk to me about the possibility of a trial. He says he's gonna plead guilty and he hopes he gets the longest sentence the Judge can throw at him. That's 20 years, I checked.'

Hutch shuddered. 'What's he playin' at? What the hell? He can't do that! What exactly did he say?'

'I don't know Hutch. All I know is he isn't doing too well in there. He needs help and he needs someone to talk to.'

'I tried, but he flatly refused to see me. I don't know what to do. Tell me what I can do' the blond said helplessly.

'I don't know. He did tell me a little about the case you were investigating. What do you recall about it?' Liz asked. She'd been appalled when she'd seen Hutch that morning. His usual smooth good looks had been replaced by weary eyes that were surrounded by dark circles and a haunted, hunted look to his face. His body, usually muscular and toned was thin and he still held his injured left arm in a sling. Pain narrowed his eyes and several times while they'd been speaking earlier, he'd looked as though he was fighting to remain upright.

Liz had never met the solider who was with Hutch. Traff introduced himself in his usual easy manner. He reminded the lawyer so much of Starsky, the only difference being that Traff's eyes were emerald green while her ex's were sapphire blue.

'What are ya doin' Starsk? What the hell are ya doin?' the blond muttered to himself. Since Liz had gone to see his partner, Traff had seen a marked worsening in Hutch's condition. The blond paced himself ragged waiting for news of Liz's encounter with Starsky and despite the soldier's attempts to get him to rest and take things easy, the blond had been relentless in his restlessness.

'Hutch buddy, just try an' relax huh? Liz love, don't push him. Its too early for him to be thinking about anything right now' Traff admonished. He rose and went to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

I'm sorry. It's just that Dave seemed to get so agitated when I mentioned this one guy, um…..Edgar. I just wondered if you remembered him.'

Hutch leaned back heavily against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed. He had knifing pains in his chest and his mouth had gone inexplicably dry. He tried to concentrate past the elephant that had taken up lodgings on his diaphragm but it was becoming difficult. Breathing was turning into a real issue and suddenly he heard Traff's voice as though from a long way away.

'Hutch? Hutch Pal, are you ok?'

The blond struggled to open his eyes. He looked at the curly haired soldier down a tunnel of darkness, his left arm and hand now tingling and heavy.

'Trrrraffff. Don't ffffeeeel s'good' he managed to gasp before the world winked out. Instantly the soldier was all action. He snapped at Liz, 'Call for the ambulance and then use the phone number by the side of the phone. It's the number for Captain Dobey. I think Blondie is having a relapse. C'mon love, snap to it' he said gently as Liz froze in horror.

Snapping herself out of the shock, the woman hurried to the telephone and started to dial the numbers as behind her she could hear Traff talking low and calm to the now unconscious blond. She managed to summon the ambulance and left a message for Dobey to ring back and turned to see Traff had loosened Hutch's shirt, baring a surgical scar turned red and angry standing out livid against his lightly tanned golden skin. The flaxen haired cop was breathing fast and shallow and his eyes were closed, beads of perspiration running down the side of his face and pooling in the hollow of his neck.

Traff looked up and tried to smile reassuringly. 'You did good honey. All we can do now is wait for 'em to get here….and pray its quick. Damn, I told him it was too early for him to be running around after Curly.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - a bonus because Brook, Xtex, Ali and Gail all wanted more chapters!**

Traff rode in the ambulance with the still unconscious blond cop while Liz promised to stay behind, lock up Hutch's apartment and call the flaxen haired man's parents. That she did and surprisingly, Dr Hutchinson's voice sounded a note of concern. He told Liz that he had a symposium he had to attend in San Diego anyway so he and Mrs Hutchinson would catch a plane right away and should be in Bay City by the end of the night. The lawyer thanked him and put the phone down, wondering what else she could do to help the two men who she'd come to know and love. Despite the fact that Hutch had been the cause of the breakdown in her relationship with Starsky, he was such an easy going and caring guy that she couldn't remain mad at him. Even though she'd split up from Dave, their relationship remained on friendly terms and on occasions, she'd even been out with the two men to a ball game or to a music concert. Concerned as she was, Liz sat down in the now unnaturally quiet apartment, took out her notes and began to look over them again, hoping something would jump out and hit her in the eye. Anything that could explain the brunet's unexpected and devastating character change.

In the ambulance, Traff sat back and watched as the paramedic worked over his friend. Hutch was showing some signs of regaining consciousness and his eyes moved beneath pale, translucent lids. With a drip of normal saline inserted into his left arm and a BP cuff around his right, he'd once again descended from the status of walking wounded to being a patient. The soldier knew Hutch wouldn't take the transition quietly and he knew he was also in for a shouting match with the blond when he eventually awoke. But Hutch had looked so sick, and had been at deaths door just over a month ago, and the curly headed soldier wanted to take no chances.

The ambulance drew to a halt and the doors opened and Traff walked with the gurney into the ER and stood quietly back while the doctors did a preliminary assessment of the blond cop. There were several "umms" and "ahhs" and much palpating of stomach and chest. Eventually, through all the hubbub in the small examination cubicle, Hutch's eyes finally cracked open and he re-entered the world of the living. Fogged and unfocused eyes looked around and the first word from Hutch's lips was his partner's name. His eyes flitted around the faces working above him before finally settling on the short cropped chocolate curls of the man by his side.

'Starsk?'

'No buddy. It's me, Traff.'

A furrow appeared across Hutch's brow, he sighed and his eyes cleared slightly. 'Where am I? How long have I been here?'

'You decided the floor looked way too comfy so you took a nosedive. I had to call an ambulance' the soldier started to explain.

'No, I gotta get outa here. Starsk...he...I...'

'You have to stay put Ken. You have septicaemia. You have a general infection throughout your body, centred on the surgical scar on your chest. I've given you an injection of broad-spectrum antibiotic and we've hung a drip of more of the medicine, but until it can start to fight the bugs. I'm afraid you're our guest again' the doctor explained.

'How long? Shit, I don't have time for this' Hutch mumbled.

'You have more time than if your friend hadn't done the right thing and called for an ambulance. Don't underestimate how serious this is Ken. If he hadn't brought you in, the consequences could have been dire.'

'How long do I have to stay?'

'At least a couple of days and I expect you to rest. If you won't, then I'll sedate you. I think our instructions on your discharge were that you look after yourself. You're obviously incapable of that! So we'll do what we have to enforce it while you're with us, is that clear?'

Traff frowned. 'I'll make sure he understands it Doc. Thanks. Hutch buddy, you aren't doin' yourself or Starsky any good by getting yourself all bent over like this. Just relax huh? Liz is working on this and Curly aint goin' nowhere. Just rest and let the antibiotics do their work. And be thankful it wasn't anything even more serious.'

The blond's eyes were beginning to close and he forced them open. 'Thanks Traff. You're a good friend. Maybe I'll just sleep for a few minutes. Wake me if...' the effort of talking, coupled with the effects of the medication and the trauma his body had suffered finally forced the decision away from Hutch and his eyes closed one last time as sleep overtook him. Traff grinned up at the Doctor.

'I don't know what you gave him, but maybe I should take a supply home.'

About midnight, they took the blond up to a small private room on the first floor. Such was Hutch's exhaustion that he didn't even wake as the two orderlies transferred him form the gurney to the bed. After a period of activity during which the nurses checked on his drip and monitored and recorded his vitals, the room suddenly emptied and Traff was left alone with his blond buddy. Hutch looked peaceful for the first time in days and for once there was an easy chair in the room. The soldier gratefully hooked it up to the side of the bed and eased his weary bones down into it. It had been a long day, fraught with emotions and the soldier was tired. Used to sleeping on transport planes, or snatching forty winks behind lines in war zones, Traff knew he could sleep just about anywhere and so with one final check on his friend, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Maybe an hour later, the door to the room pushed open and the two older Hutchinsons walked into the room. Neither parent was particularly demonstrative around their eldest child. They'd never been a particularly tactile family, but still, the sight of their son hooked up once again to drips and looking pale and frail on the bed ignited some sort of motherly instinct in Mrs Hutchinson and for one of the few times in her life she let down her guard and actually leaned over the inert body on the bed and kissed Hutch's forehead.

The blond stirred in his sleep and his eyes cracked open as he looked up into his mother's face. He smiled a little and cleared his throat.

'Mom? What're ya doin' here?' he asked in a croaky voice.

'We were worried dear. That nice young lady phoned and told us that you were back in the hospital again. How do you feel?'

'M'ok. Just tired I guess.'

Dr Hutchinson put down the chart at the foot of his son's bed just as Traff awoke from his doze. The soldier sat up straighter in his chair and scrubbed at his face with his hands before standing and holding out his hand. 'Hi. I'm Tom Trafford. I'm a friend of Hutch's' he said.

Hutchinson senior shook the soldier's hand and Mrs Hutchinson smiled warmly. 'Good to meet you Mr Trafford. Thanks for looking after Ken. We do appreciate it. He's mentioned your name a few times.'

'All good I hope' Traff smiled back. 'Shall I leave you alone? Do you want to visit with Hu...Ken? It's just he's pretty weak and he needs...'

'His rest, yes I know. No, don't go. Its fine' Hutch's father said as he stood by the side of the bed. He looked down and a crease of concern marred his forehead.

'What happened?' he asked.

'Nothin' Dad, its fine' Hutch responded. He didn't want the fight he knew would inevitably follow. Damn, he knew his parent's feelings about Starsky. According to the two Hutchinsons, who because of Dr Hutchinson's status as an eminent surgeon enjoyed the higher end of Duluth society, Starsky was never good enough to be associated with their son. On countless occasions, Hutch had tried to explain just how good a friend the brunet was and how he would trust him with his life, and did do on a daily basis. But when Hutch had been rushed into Memorial, his life hanging in the balance, Dr Hutchinson had taken it as final proof that coming from the wrong side of the Brooklyn tracks was reason enough to distrust the curly haired cop.

'It's not fine Ken. What have you done to yourself to find your way back into the hospital? You haven't been resting have you?' There was accusation in the voice but it was also tinged with love, or as much love as the stern father figure would allow himself to show.

'He's been a little concerned Sir' Traff interjected 'But he's rested as much as he can.'

The Doctor snickered softly. 'It's no use covering for him Mr Trafford. I know my son and I know what he's like when it comes to that no good partner of his. Isn't it enough that he put you in the hospital to begin with Ken? What do I have to say to convince you that he's a no good layabout who can't be trusted?'

Hutch's face turned from ashen to pink as the anger rose in him. 'He's no layabout and I'd still trust him with my life. Don't badmouth him Dad. Please. Not here, not now.'

'I don't know how you can lie there and defend him like you do. For God's sake Ken, it's his fault that you're here in the first place!' Dr Hutchinson's voice was rising in line with Hutch's and it was apparent that both junior and senior Hutchinson had the same temper.

'It wasn't his fault!' Hutch almost yelled. His voice was reedy and weak and he tried to sit up in the bed. Immediately Traff was by his side.

'Cool it buddy. Just lie down, you aren't doing yourself any good getting upset.' The soldier turned to Hutchinson senior. 'And you! You ought to know better, especially someone in your position! Now either play nice, or go' he snapped angrily.

'He's right darling. We should just let Ken rest. This is neither the time nor the place' Mrs Hutchinson tried to interject, although her husband seemed to be in full flow and wasn't listening to either person.

'It is his fault! Ken when are you going to realise that Starsky put two bullets in you? That was no accident! That was a serious attempt on your life and I hope they lock him up for life and throw away the key!'

Hutch struggled on the bed. Trying desperately to throw back the sheets and get up. Traff pushed him back down, his own temper now thoroughly raised. He could understand how Hutch's father felt, but he didn't know all the facts and he didn't know what had gone on. Traff was loyal to all his friends, but for the man who he'd shared experiences in 'Nam with, the bond ran deeper. Too deep to allow a relative stranger to start using his name in vain.

In two strides, the soldier was across the room and had a hold of the Doctor by his arm. He propelled the senior man out of the small hospital room and wedged him up against the far wall of the corridor, his arm across Dr Hutchinson's throat and his body leaning into the big man so that he had nowhere to go. He stared the man in the eyes, his own emerald eyes twinkling dangerously.

'Now listen to me and listen good. I don't usually get involved in family affairs. I don't usually go around manhandling my friend's parents, but you, _Sir_, have overstepped the mark. I don't want you upsetting my friend in there, even if he is your son. And what's even more important, I don't want you badmouthing my other friend. Starsky acted out of character and their aint no one more sorry than he is. He's in jail. He's paying his dues. And whatever happened I'm gonna get to the bottom of it. In the mean time, leave him alone, be careful around Hutch or you'll have me to answer to, and next time, I won't be so gentle, got it?'

Hutchinson senior's eyes sparkled angrily but with the strong soldier's arm across his throat he had little option but to listen and take due note of what Traff had to say. For a moment, his temper still welled deep inside him and he could feel his fists balling by his side. With a superhuman effort, he took a deep breath and nodded, feeling the pressure across his windpipe diminish slightly. Traff let go of his hold, and Richard Hutchinson stood and straightened his tie. Without another look at the soldier, he pulled his jacket straight and walked with dignity back into the hospital room.

Hutch's Mom was standing by the bed, her hand on her son's shoulder while she smiled down at him. Both looked over as Richard walked back in and stood stiffly at the other side of the bed,

'I think Ken has had enough visit for tonight' he said huffily. 'Get some rest son. We'll be back later tomorrow.'

Swallowing down the retort and realising just what it had cost his Father to admit (albeit in a stilted way) that he was in the wrong, Hutch nodded and patted his Mom's arm.

'Yeah, fine. I'm gonna sleep for a while now. Thanks for coming' he managed to force out. Mrs Hutchinson pecked her son on his forehead and smiled timorously while his father looked uncomfortable. Overly familiar shows of affection were not his way and so he cleared his throat self consciously, patted Hutch on the shoulder, and without a backwards glance, they left the room.

For a moment there was silence as Traff stood panting slightly with exertion and emotion by the side of the door, and Hutch watched his parents depart. The blond snickered tiredly.

Well I felt that went well' he said weakly. 'Who else can I piss off tonight?'


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Starsky awoke with a groan, the top of his head feeling like it was going to roll clean off of his shoulders if he moved it too quickly. The baton had caught him just behind his right ear and as he felt the spot gingerly, he felt the crusting of dried blood. He didn't need to raise his shirt to know there would also be a fresh bruise in the centre of his stomach too. The guards were very professional with their batons and knew how to use them to maximum effect.

With a hiss of discomfort, the brunet rolled himself off the bunk so that he was sitting with his legs dangling over the side and he could rest back against the wall. He massaged his ribs and thought about the visit from Liz. It had been unexpected to say the least.

When he's been brought to the jail, he'd been offered his usual phone call and a phone book for him to make his choice of the lawyers listed. Instead, feeling that he had no defence anyway, he'd simply said that he would make do with whichever lawyer the state wanted to provide for him. Along came Henry Dawber, the man that all the old lags hoped they never got. Although Dawber had never actually been struck off, he relied for his living on being the lawyer that the perps got when they couldn't afford anyone better and Starsky had sighed wearily when he'd had his fist legal visit with the sweating, balding man. He'd told Henry fair and square that he had no defence and didn't want a trial and the man had nodded, packed up his bag and left. No argument, no attempt to persuade his client. For Henry, this was simple – a guy who finally admitted that he'd done it. Money in the bank for very little effort. The little man had gone off to his next appointment leaving Starsky feeling vindicated and happy with his actions.

When he'd had the next unexpected legal visit, and he'd walked into the room to see Liz, his emotions had been all over the place. Bad enough that he'd made the difficult decision not to fight the process. He'd spent long cold nights trying to get used to the jail knowing it was likely to be his home for the next maybe 20 years. But to have an old girlfriend – someone who'd known him intimately then come into the equation and tell him that no matter what, she was going to investigate the case thoroughly, had thrown the brunet into turmoil. His thoughts were a maelstrom. When she'd mentioned Edgar Fisher's name, for some inexplicable reason. Starsky felt his blood pressure rise and his anger take off in unison. She had no right to implicate Fisher in this. Edgar had done nothing. And yet why did he feel like that about the man that he's interviewed only once about the murders? Hutch had been convinced that Fisher had something to do with the skeletons and they'd argued about it more than once, but Starsky was equally convinced that Edgar was telling the truth when he said he was completely innocent. Now Liz wanted to know about Edgar Fisher and once again Starsky felt the overpowering urge to stop her. He sighed, too defeated and cowed to think too deeply about it. Thinking hurt, and he'd had enough hurts to last him a lifetime. Liz was a complication, nothing more. Whatever she did, if he was adamant that he was going to plead guilty at the hearing next week, there was nothing she could do about it. Let her spend her energy on investigations. At the end of the day there was no getting away from the fact that he'd shot Hutch. He was more than thankful that the blond had survived. If he hadn't, Starsky knew he would have found some way to end his own life. But as it was, he now had his hurt and his guilt that he could hug to him, treasuring the fact that he felt like seven shades of a bastard, because he felt that those feelings were well and truly merited. But the brunet admitted to himself that it had been good to see a friendly and familiar face amongst all the anger in the jail. Just the look of concern in Liz's beautiful green eyes had been like a balm for his soul and for a moment he allowed himself a feeling of self-pity.

The door to his cell jerked open making Starsky jump. Not Rafferty again! Please God no more of that. He hadn't had time to recover from the last visit by the guard and Starsky looked up quickly. Fortunately, Rafferty did not appear. Instead it was one of the other, slightly more reasonable guards and Starsky stood, forcing himself up from his bunk with a stifled groan. He knew the drill and had learned the rules of the jail pretty early on. Never one for formality on the outside, on the inside everything had a rule and all rules were either obeyed without question, or the prisoner faced painful consequences. Number one rule – the guards were to be obeyed at all times and were treated almost like gods. That meant always standing when a guard came into his cell, and never looking them directly in the eyes. Now he stood easily, hands hanging at his sides and eyes firmly cast down. Starsky waited.

'02698, I'm to take you to the medical block. You have an appointment with one of the doctors.'

The brunet looked up reflexively and then cast his gaze down again. Obedient. Don't flout the rules! 'Why boss? I aint sick.'

'Do I look like a doctor? How should I know why? Assume the position an' don't argue huh?'

With a sigh, Starsky faced the wall and braced himself on his hands and for the second time that day, he felt the belt and bracelets circle his body and limbs. God he hated this. It was dehumanising, demeaning, but he knew he should get used to it. At the tap on his shoulder, he turned and shuffled after the guard into the hallway and along the endless long grey corridors to the medical wing, which stood slightly apart from the other parts of the prison.

Starsky had only been there once before – after the initial fight with the prisoner who'd found out that the cop who'd put him away was housed on the same wing as him. He'd taken great delight in "welcoming" Starsky to the "Bay City Hilton" ending in the black eye and a cracked rib and a night in the relative comfort of the hospital facilities. Now he cast his eye cautiously over the rows of beds in the small locked rooms and continued to follow the guard down to a small consultation room in the middle of the corridor. The brunet walked in and sat down on the chair indicted. It was bolted to the floor and the guard took out a bunch of keys and unlocked the manacles around Starsky's wrists, refastening them to the arms of the chair. Without another word, he left and Starsky looked around the small impersonal room nervously.

The brunet was left alone for perhaps five minutes during which time he became increasingly wary. He'd heard all sorts of horror stories about what happened to prisoners in the medical facilities. The government had promised to look into maltreatment, but whether they ever did or not, he never found out and had never truthfully cared. Prisoners were in jail to be punished right? And while torture as such was always inherently wrong, what went on behind closed doors wasn't something that concerned the great American public.

He jumped slightly as the door opened behind him and looked on in surprise as a woman wearing a white coat and with shoulder length raven black hair came to sit by the desk in front of him. She looked at his notes, which had been spread out on the desk in front of her and then looked up and smiled encouragingly at him.

'Hi. My name is Beth. Beth Knot. I'm the psychiatrist here and the Warden has asked me to see you. You're….'

'02698 Starsky' the brunet replied, appraising the woman cautiously.

'Can I call you Dave?'

'It's my name, but I don't hear it much in here' he shrugged.

Beth ignored the comment. 'Ok Dave. Now, from your records I see….'

'I don't need a shrink. I'm not crazy' Starsky interrupted defensively.

Beth smiled at him. 'Just because I said I was a psychiatrist, it doesn't mean that we think you are. I just wanted to talk to you. Get to know you. Maybe help you?'

'Who asked you to do that? I don't see the other guys getting' special treatment.' The curly haired cop said suspiciously.

'Why do you think someone would ask me to do this Dave?'

Starsky's face cracked into a lop sided grin. It felt strange to smile after all this time and he snorted. 'Coz I know my partner, and I know he'd try anythin' to get me to face the possibility of a trial.'

Beth smiled back and nodded. 'You're right. Sergeant Hutchinson came to see the Warden after you refused a visit from him. He came with another of your friends, a Lieutenant Colonel Trafford? They're both very worried about you and say that the crime you're accused of and also your behaviour before and after it is very out of character. They asked whether I would talk to you, but I can't inflict myself on you. Will you allow me to try to help you David?'

'I don't think anyone can help me. I shot my partner. I shot the one man I've always sworn to protect and I don't know why I did it. But I remember pulling the fuckin' trigger. I remember seein' him go down and I remember standing there with the gun hot in my hand. Now tell me what sort of a defence I have, Miss Knot, coz from where I'm sittin' there don't appear to be one, so why waste Joe Public's money on a futile trial. I've accepted I did what I did, why can't Hutch?' Starsky's voice broke when he mentioned his partner's name. It was the first time he'd spoken it aloud in so long that it brought untold emotions welling up from deep inside his chest and he hitched a deep breath and ducked his head down, studying a wrinkle in his pants until he felt he had his feelings under control. Slowly he brought up his head and turned the full force of his pained indigo eyes onto the woman.

Beth gazed back without flinching. She didn't need to be a psychiatrist to see that this man was hurting so deeply that he could think of nothing else apart from what he'd done to his partner. Right there and then, she resolved that she would battle her way through the hard, almost impenetrable exterior he'd erected around himself to find out what was going on in that curly head. Although by the look of fear in his eyes, she doubted that even Starsky truly understood his motivations for the shooting.

'Will you let me help you?' she asked calmly.

'There aint no point.'

'Well maybe I should be the judge of that, there's always a point. I can see your pain runs very deep. To my mind, that doesn't reflect the mind of a cold-blooded killer.'

Starsky snorted softly. 'Seems that's what I am though.'

'I don't think you believe that Dave.'

For the first time, Starsky allowed a chink in his armour to show and he blinked back a tear angrily. 'I don't know what to think any more' he said quietly. 'I loved Hutch…. still do love him like a brother. Well hell, no, not like a brother. It's closer than that, and yet, something made me do that to him. I tried to kill him. How could I do that? What force on earth would make me want to do that? Tell me that huh Doc? What would make me take my own gun and just turn on him an' try to blow him away?'

Beth waited a moment until Starsky had regained some of his composure. She smiled encouragingly. 'The fact that you're asking me that question proves two things to me. First, it tells me you're definitely not crazy and second it tells me that something else is at work here. With your permission and with your co-operation, I'd like to try and find out what. Will you work with me David?'

'I don't deserve no help. I did what I did. What Judge is gonna think anything else?'

'Anyone can be coerced.'

'Yeah, but I wasn't. No one forced me to do this. I wasn't blackmailed or nuthin. I just….just….I don't wanna think about it' the brunet mumbled wearily.

'David, Hutch wanted to see you and you wouldn't let him. He wants to help you and having heard you just now, so do I. Will you work with me? Will you let me?'

For the first time in over three weeks, Starsky felt the first small ray of hope pierce the aura of gloom that had settled over him. He allowed himself another brief smile and nodded slightly. 'If you think ya can, give it your best shot. What've I got to lose?'

Beth heaved a sigh of relief. 'Ok. I want to try hypnosis. I've had very good results with it in other subjects and if nothing else, it will make you relaxed enough to be able to think about the incident without your mind automatically trying to block out all the unwanted memories. But I need your permission.'

'I dunno.' Starsky licked dry lips nervously. 'I've never held with the whole "imagine you're a tree" thing. What if it doesn't work?'

'Well it's true that not everyone can be hypnotised and there is an element of the patient wanting or allowing himself to be, but some people are more susceptible than others. Would you allow me to give it a try? It doesn't hurt, and the worst that will happen is that you'll feel more relaxed.'

'Well that'll be a first in this hell hole' the brunet muttered. 'Fine. Just do it huh? Now, before I change my mind.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

'I want you to sit back and try to relax' Beth told the curly haired prisoner as she dimmed the lights in the room.

'Pretty difficult with the jewellery on' Starsky grunted, rattling the chains on the manacles gently.

'Sorry. Rules are rules' Beth said apologetically. 'Just try to get as comfortable as you can and then close your eyes and take some deep breaths. Good.'

The brunet shuffled in his chair and tried to rest his head back. Finding that he was unable to get particularly comfortable, he sighed and concentrated on his breathing instead. He closed his eyes, his head still full of thoughts of Hutch lying bleeding on the ground. He could feel the weight of his Smith and Wesson in his hand, the noise of the report still loud in his ears. _OK, stop that. Don't think. Just breathe_ he told himself sternly. Behind him, Beth started to talk softly and calmly and Starsky found that pretty soon he was beginning to listen intently to her voice.

'I want you to let your mind go blank. Look at your thoughts as if from a distance. Don't concentrate on any particular one, just let them drift into your mind and let them flow past your eyes. As you see them flow past allow the next one to merge into the last. None are important and none need trouble you. They're echoes of your past, reflections of what's gone by. You're awake but now you can feel your eyelids getting heavier. You want to close your eyes and that's fine. Let your body get heavy. Your arms are heavy, your legs are heavy. Your eyelids are closing. Can you hear me David?'

Starsky heard her ask but it was almost too much trouble to answer her. He felt peaceful and warm and for the first time in a long time he wasn't scared any more. 'Yeah' he breathed.

Beth nodded. Wow, that was quick! Starsky was certainly a good subject to hypnotise. The rest should be relatively easy.

'I want you to think back to your childhood. What was the worst thing that happened to you? I want you to think of that one thing.'

The brunet's breath quickened. 'My Dad. Dad was shot. There's cops at the door….his friends….Ma's letting them in and they're….oh!'

'Let it pass David. Watch it and let is pass. Now I want you to think about a time when you've felt happy. Think of the happiest time you've ever had. A time when you felt as though your heart would burst with joy. Take that thought and focus on it. Cherish and concentrate on that feeling. Can you tell me what that time was?'

The brunet's face had spread into a wide grin. He seemed shy and yet at the same time his face had relaxed into genuine joy. 'Hutch. He's gonna be ok. He woke up and Judith said he's gonna be fine. The serum worked.'

'That's good David' Beth said, touched that David's happiest thought had been about his partner. It reinforced her (and the Warden's belief) that something else had been at work when Starsky had done what he'd done to the blond. 'I want you to remember that feeling and I want you to move forward to the last time you worked with Hutch.

The grin faded to be replaced by concentration as Starsky thought about that time.

'We clocked off. I'm tired and we go home. I'm sitting on the sofa and I'm flicking through the channels but there's nuthin on the TV so I'm looking at my watch. It's about 10:30 and I decide I'm gonna go to bed. I go to sleep….Hutch says I can sleep on a tightrope. I wake up later and look at the clock. It's 11:30 an' I woke up coz the phone is ringin'. It's Hutch. I'm panickin' coz I think sumthin's wrong. He sounds kinda rattled and he's askin' me if I've been foolin' around an' phonin' him. I tell him no, I've been asleep. I ask him if he's ok and he says he's had some prank call askin' him about the difficulties of bein' a cop.' Starsky paused, his brow furrowed in concentration.

'That's good Dave' Beth encouraged him. 'What happened next? Move the film forward. Fast forward to the next morning and tell me about the next time you saw Hutch.'

'I get up an' I'm still kinda tired. I have breakfast and set off in the car. I call for him. It's my turn to drive the Torino an' he's all huffy coz he hates bein' in my car when it's hot. He prefers to drive then he can tootle along at 30. I pick him up. He seems tired and he says he hasn't slept well. We spend the rest of the day followin' up leads on the Children's home and then he comes back to mine for pizza. We were gonna double date, but instead we just have a quiet night. He's been quiet all day and he says he wants to turn in early so I leave his house. It's about 10:45 and I drive home.'

'Did your leads turn anything about the children's home up? Did anything else happen about the case?' the psychiatrist pushed.

'No, nuthin. Every guy we interview says the same thing. They didn't really like the home and they were happier once they'd left, but no one says anythin' about bodies, or killings. In fact when we mention the teachers at the school, most of the guys we talk to get kinda huffy that we thought anythin' bad had happened there.'

'OK. You're doing really well Dave. Now, move on again. You're home now. You're back in your house. What did you do there?'

'Hutch is going out with his girl, so I drop him at his house and I go back home. It's hot an' it's stuffy inside the house. I get a beer from the fridge and I'm gonna go down to the beach and hang out. It's a nice evening an' I just want to feel the sand between my toes.'

'Do you go?'

'Um, yeah….no…..I…..I……I dunno. I have my shorts on an' I get the car keys and there's a phone call. I'm cursin' coz I think it's Hutch, or Dobey an' I pick the phone up and….'

Beth looked at the crease of concentration marring the handsome brunet's face. 'Go on, you're doing so well. What was the phone call about?'

Starsky's fingers clawed at the arms of the chair to which he was chained. His knuckles showed white and a sheen of perspiration shone across his forehead. 'I pick the phone up and it's….I'm talkin' to…it's….it…..shit, I can't remember. It's. Fuck! I'm talkin' on the phone an' I don't know….I…'

Beth saw her patient getting more and more agitated and she laid her hand on the prisoner's shoulder gently. 'I want you to relax David. Just relax. You're coming out of this now. I'm counting backwards and when I reach one, you'll wake and feel refreshed and comfortable. Three….two….one and you're back.'

But instead of Starsky opening his eyes and looking around, as she'd intended, the brunet was still lost in his hypnotic trance, his hands clutching at the chair arms and his body straining against the belt around his waist. 'No! I can't remember. I can't….Jesus, who was it? Who….fuck! Help me, for Christ sake someone. It's…..Jeez this hurts. Hurts to remember….hurts to…..help meeee!'

Beth clicked her fingers next to the cop's ear and brought her mouth close to his ear. Raising her voice she said firmly 'David. You're coming out of this now. Three. Two One. OUT!' At the same time, she clicked her fingers and gently shook Starsky's shoulder. With a small yelp, indigo blue eyes flashed open and Starsky sat panting in the chair as though he'd done a marathon race.

'What happened?' he asked as he looked up at the woman.

Beth's face registered concern. 'I don't know' she said thoughtfully. 'Have you ever been hypnotised before?'

The brunet pursed his lips. 'No, never. Why?'

At that moment there was an insistent knock on the door and it pushed open. The psychiatrist looked up as Rafferty poked his head around. 'Times up doc. I should take him back to his cell.'

'Give me 5 more minutes. We were just getting somewhere' Beth said.

The guard shook his head. 'Sorry Ma'am. No can do. Warden's orders. He's to be taken back to his cell now.'

The woman sighed and turned her attention back to her patient. Starsky looked worried and had paled slightly when he'd seen Rafferty, but he knew he had no choice in whether he went with the guard or not and it was pointless to tell Beth what was going on. As the woman nodded, Rafferty came into the room, unlocked the manacles from the chair arms and as Starsky stood shakily, he refastened the bracelets, this time with the brunet's arms behind his back. The curly haired cop made no comment as he was led from the room, but as he got to the door, Beth stopped them.

'I'm going to ask the warden for a longer session with you tomorrow. I think we may have more to discuss' she said as she turned and went back to her work.

Rafferty grunted as he pushed Starsky in front of him along the corridor. The brunet could feel the waves of anger flowing from the guard and he wondered just what he'd done to make him mad but as he felt himself pushed into the cell, he knew he was going to find out. Rafferty closed the door behind them and drew his baton, slapping it against the palm of his hand as Starsky started to slowly back up, a step at a time until he could feel the cold cell wall at his back.

Rafferty advanced on him slowly, his face pulled into an evil leer.

'So you thought you'd tell our Doc about your treatment did ya? Are you so stupid that you think she can help ya puppy?'

So, that's what this was about! Starsky shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the guard's face.

'No boss. I never said a word.' He hated the guard and felt disgusted by the big man's attentions. Feelings warred in his head and yet... comlaining would bring attention to himself, attention he didn't want. He was a cop. He ws a big boy, he could handle himself, or not, if that's what he chose.

'Could've fooled me. You and her seemed pretty cozy in there. I'm just gonna have to show you what happens when my puppy starts tellin' other people about our little games. Rafferty raised his hand and started to unbutton the brunet's shirt, a button at a time. He smiled as he felt the slight tremors running through the olive toned body and the brunet dropped his gaze to the ground. Please God no! No more! He'd hardly recovered from the last visit the guard had made.

With the restraints still in place and his hands shackled behind his back, the curly haired prisoner had little chance to get away from the guards advances as and the last shirt button popped open, Rafferty ran his hand up Starsky's chest, playfully circling each nipple and ending with his hands circling the brunet's throat. Rafferty leaned into the trembling body and lowered his head so that his mouth hovered inches from Starsky's neck. The brunet repressed the urge to yell at him to fuck off and instead closed his eyes, trying to blot out the horror. Calm. What the hell? This was his life from now on. Maybe 20 years of this, till he was old and wrinkled and they'd leave him alone for some younger guy. Could he last a few years? Did he want to live that long? No to both questions, but he was chained and couldn't fight back right now even if he'd had the energy or the desire. Better to just try to relax and go with it until a different time. Take his mind away. Think of something good. thinks of the best thing in his life.

Hutch.

Starsky shivered automatically. No more happy bllond thoughts. Nowhere to hide. Just a sadistic guard and a rod of flesh.

Rafferty grinned to himself as he opened his mouth and carefully bit down over his prisoner's jugular vein. His teeth punctured the warm flesh and he felt the pulse there, fast and urgent and tasted salty warm blood as it oozed from the wound. Starsky hissed at the pain and Rafferty pulled away, launching the blunt end of his baton into the brunet's solar plexus.

With a grunt, the shackled man's knees crumpled and he was forced to his knees, his body now sandwiched between the wall and Rafferty's legs. The guard grinned down at the curly head and grabbed a handful of chocolate curls with one hand. He dropped his baton to the floor and with his free hand, unzipped his pants, allowing his phallus to spring free. It bobbed, long and turgid in front of Starsky's eyes and Rafferty laughed out loud

'Now that you're down there, it seems a shame to waste your time. Open wide huh? If you're hell bent on exercisin' that mouth with the little doctor lady, there's a job I'm kinda needin' ya to do.'

Rafferty pulled Starsky's head towards him, the tip of his cock against Starsky's lips. Reluctantly, the brunet opened his mouth and choked as Rafferty thrust the whole of his length into the waiting chasm. Punishment. This was his punishment and no one could help him now. Again and again Rafferty raped the brunet's mouth while Starsky gagged, his eyes tearing with the sensation of losing his breath time after time. Eventually though, the guard seemed to tire of the game. The brunet's jaw ached and sweat trickled down the sides of his face. Rafferty pulled free and looked down his body, seeming to come to a decision.

Using Starsky's hair as a lever, he pulled the cop to his feet and with his free hand spun him around so that he fell bent face first over the narrow bunk. Starsky buried his face into the course blankets as he felt Rafferty's hands pulling at the elastic waistband of his pants. The air was cold on his naked butt as he felt the big guard position himself behind, Rafferty's knees pushing Starsky's legs wider apart. The brunet groaned into the bunk as he felt the guard's thumbs pushing into his ass, prising the opening wider with painful thrusts. He heard Rafferty spit onto his hands and a moment later braced himself as he felt something much larger than thumbs pushing at his entrance. With his hands still fastened behind him he had no means to lever himself up and out of the way and Rafferty had his considerable bulk holding him down.

The temper that had been absent in the past three weeks finally bubbled to the surface. the dam of Starsky's emotions fnally broke. He'd been submissive. He'd played the part of good little prisoner and had tried to take his punishment as he deserved. Now he even failed at that and anger at himself and his guard welled up inside him and although he had no means to physically fight back, or stop the rape, Starsky finally broke his silence and yelled into the blankets on the bed.

'Noooo! I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya, hear that turkey? You'd better watch your back, coz I'm gonna kill ya. I aint yur puppy, I'm your tiger with teeth an' claws and I'm always gonna be there, waitin' for the right moment to end your sorry fuckin' life.'

Grunting with the effort of his rutting, Rafferty backhanded Starsky across the head and laughed out loud. 'You might be watching my back, but believe me puppy, your ass is, and always will be mine!'


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - sorry its late! combination of decorating the bedroom and Mum's broken arm**

The visit from Dr and Mrs Hutchinson got Traff to thinking that maybe he ought to ring Starsky's Mom and tell her exactly what was happening. When the brunet had been arrested three and a half weeks ago, it had been council of war time and Dobey, Traff and Huggy had got together to decide what they should say to Starsky friends and more to the point, his family. There was no doubt that in her hay day, Rachel had been small fire brand of a woman – a tiny Jewish dynamo who drove along the Starsky machinery with terrifying efficiency. With her eldest son's near death experience at the hands of James Gunther's goons, however, her health had started to deteriorate and more than once, the brunet had had a phone call to say she was sick with the flu, or a fever. Starsky had spent hours trying to convince his Mom to move down to California and sunnier climes where the weather might be better for her health, but Rachel was even more stubborn than her son and had insisted on staying put in New York state, saying all her friends were up there. She did, however make one concession and moved from her inner city house in Brooklyn out to Rochester stating it was plenty "woodsy" for her. Hutch had laughed at the sentiment, he heard it so many times from his curly headed partner.

When Starsky had effectively arrested himself and had refused the idea of bail, Dobey had taken the decision to ring Rachel and save her too much anxiety by telling her that Starsky would be out of circulation for a while and that he wouldn't be able to call her. She'd been both wife of a cop and Mom of a cop long enough to recognise the euphemism as meaning Starsky was undercover and had been wise enough not to ask any more questions. For a couple of weeks at least, the team of friends had some breathing space,

Seeing Mrs Hutchinson with her own son had gotten Traff to thinking that maybe the time had come to come clean with Mrs Starsky, however, and once he was happy that Hutch was settled into the hospital, was asleep, and would be for some time with the aid of the doctor's sedation, he wound his weary way home, back to Hutch's apartment. It was early morning and calculating the time differences, he decided it was the right time to ring. Traff hated what he had to do, and yet, he felt that it was also the right thing. The soldier had never known his own Mother, but he knew instinctively that if he had, he would have wanted her to know if anything, good or bad, was happening to him.

Traff picked up the phone and dialled the number that Hutch had noted down in his phone book. He waited for the connection and then listened as the ring tone sounded at the other end. It rang for some time and the curly haired soldier was about to put the receiver down when a sleepy male voice sounded down the line.

'H'llo'

The voice sounded so much like Starsky's that for an instant Traff was taken aback. 'Is um…. Is Rachel there?' he asked haltingly

'No, Ma is up north visiting friends. Who is this?'

'This is Tom Trafford, one of Dave's friends. And you're….?'

'Nicky, his brother. What' d'ya want?'

'I um….well I needed to talk to his Mom really. I was just um….'

'Is it about David?' What's he gone an' done now? Gotten himself shot up again?' There was little care in the younger man's voice, but at the same time, there was curiosity.

'No, he's ok. Well, he isn't sick. He's um… Can I get in touch with your Mom?'

'No, she was sick, so I sent her upstate to visit with her cousin. I don't want her worryin', so if there's anythin', you should probably tell me' Nicky said.

Traff knew some of the history between his friend and Nicky, but this was, after all, Starsky's brother, and he had a right to know. 'Well I don't really want to worry anyone, but um…. Dave's got himself into some trouble.'

'Trouble? My law abidin' "holier than thou" brother? You got the wrong guy mister. Dave would no more get himself into trouble than the Pope would convert to Islam. What's he supposed to have done? Can I talk to him?'

Traff took a deep breath. This conversation wasn't being helped by the fact that Nicky seemed to be enjoying the fact Starsky was on the wrong side of the law. Nevertheless….. 'He's um…..well, something happened, and we don't know what, but we're gonna find out. He wasn't acting like himself, and Hutch don't blame him but…'

Nicky's voice sounded impatient. 'Whatever ya gotta say just spit it out, ok? Does he need money? Does he have to pay a fine or sumthin?'

'No, he's in jail.'

'Jail? My big brother? You're puttin' me on!'

Traff ground his teeth, fighting for composure. 'I wish I was. He's in Bay City Pen.'

'Jeez that's a bit harsh. What's he done? Driven that parade float of his too fast?'

'No, would that he had. The charge is attempted murder. He shot Hutch. Twice.'

There was silence for a second or so as the information settled into place. 'He…. Hutch? What the? NO, you got it wrong. They were like…. How is he – Hutch? Is he ok? I mean, not ok. My brother may be a lot of things, an' one of 'em is a crack shot. So I don't expect that Blondie's ok, but…… shit, this is a wind up aint it?'

'I wish it were Nicky, but straight up, he's in jail. The sentencing hearing is next week.'

'No, wait! Sentence? He aint had a trial yet.'

'He doesn't want one. He's adamant he's guilty. He won't hear of a trial.'

'He's got a good lawyer, right?'

'Uh huh. the best. We made sure of that, but if he decides he's pleading guilty, there aint a whole lot we can do.'

'OK, don't let him do nuthin crazy. I'm gonna get the next plane out. I should be with you later on today. Can you arrange a visit for me?' Nicky asked.

Traff nodded. 'Um Nick, you won't um……you won't take this as…..'

A quiet snort echoed down the line. 'He's my bro and he's hurtin'. I'm a lot of things, but even I can't be so callous. Can you pick me up at LAX?'

Arrangements made, Traff replaced the phone hoping that he'd done the right thing. Starsky had often told him tales of his errant younger brother, but Traff had never met Nicky and didn't know if, and how far he could trust him. That said, though, the soldier knew Starsky needed something to shake him out of his lethargy. He waited a couple of hours until he felt sure the office at the Penitentiary would be open and then made the necessary phone call, organising a visit both for himself and for Nicky later that day.

Four o'clock that afternoon and after another visit to Hutch, Traff found himself waiting outside the arrivals hall of the airport. He knew Hutch's feelings towards Nicky and had purposely not told the blond that he'd called. Hutch was looking markedly better and even went so far as to agree that hospital had been the best place for him and yes, he would stay put for another 24 hours to give the antibiotics full chance to kick in.

Satisfied that at least one of his friends was on the mend, Traff leaned easily against his Thunderbird, arms folded and ankles crossed as he waited for Nicky to appear. Five minutes later Starsky's brother emerged from the airport carrying a small overnight bag. Traff had no difficulty in recognising him. The chocolate coloured curls and handsome good looks were obviously a Starsky family trait and he walked straight over to the younger man and held out his hand.

'Nick?'

The younger Starsky grinned, giving the soldier a once over. 'Sure. You're Tom right?'

'Uh huh. Traff to my friends. We have visits booked for 5 and 5:30, shall we?' he said, loading the case into the tiny back space and getting into the car. Nicky trotted round to the passenger side and they drove immediately over to the prison.

Once inside and formalities and searches having been made, Traff smiled at Nicky. We both have 30 minute visits. You go first, I wanna go see the Doc who's looking after your brother. I'll meet you back here.'

Nicky nodded and with the air of someone who was a little too comfortable around prisons, he walked into the visiting hall and sat down to wait.

Sitting on the hard seats, he looked around. Same old same old, he thought. Dirty walls, steel mesh at the small windows set high up in the walls. He'd seen it all before. He jumped a little as the door at the far end of the hall opened and a familiar figure shuffled through it. Escorted by two guards, Starsky made his way reluctantly down the hall and came to a ragged halt in front of the table. As the two guards pushed him down onto the chair and took a few steps back, he glared angrily at his younger brother.

'Who told you I was here?'

'Aww, Jeez, David. And after I flew across country to see ya. Couldn't you have thought of a cuter greeting than that?'

'Cut the crap Nicky, I aint in the mood.'

'Traff told me. He's worried for ya. I came coz I wanted to see my "butter wouldn't melt in his mouth" brother behind bars, but now I'm here….'

'What? Wanna crow huh? Fine, go ahead, it's no more than I deserve' Starsky said wearily.

'Maybe now I've seen ya I want to help. You look like shit Bro. What are they doin' to ya?'

Starsky's eyes refused to meet his younger brother's. 'Nuthin' he said defensively. 'How's Ma? Does she know?'

'No, she thinks you're still on an assignment.'

'Well you aren't gonna be able to keep the secret too much longer. Sorry. But I guess you'll enjoy it won't ya?' the brunet muttered bitterly.

'Enjoy?...no, that's not the word I'd use. David, I admit I came down here thinkin' this was some joke, or a big mistake. I was curious, and yeah, there was an element of me wantin' to see my big cop brother behind bars.'

'But?'

'But now I'm here….. How'd ya get the bruises Bro?'

'Most of the flakes in here are here coz of me an' Hu…..coz of me. They like the idea they can get some retribution. It's fine.'

'I gotta ask. Did you do it? Did you shoot him?' Nicky asked, his own paler blue eyes boring into his brother's.

Defiantly Starsky raised his own eyes and returned Nicky's steely gaze. 'Yeah, I did. I shot him twice, and before you ask, I aimed to kill.'

'Why?' Nicky's voice was quiet, awed.

'I dunno. I have no fuckin' idea, but I did it and I deserve all this, an' more besides. Fuck! If they'd gimme a gun, I'd turn it on myself, but I guess that's the easy way out.'

'Let Traff help ya David. There must be sumthin. You'd never do that to Hutch unless someone made ya. Are you protectin' someone?'

Starsky snorted softly. 'Believe me, I've been over this a thousand times in my head. Just leave it huh? I did it an' now I'm gonna pay. How's Ma?'

'She's with Rebekka upstate. She had the flu again. I…. I can't tell her David.'

'You don't have to. I'm gonna write her.'

Nicky leaned forward. 'Just let 'em help you….please? I know we've never been close, an' believe me, I'd like nuthin more than to be crowin' over ya right now. But this is too serious for that. Let 'em help ya Bro, before it's too late huh?'

As the guards started to take hold of Starsky again, at the end of his half hour visit, Nicky looked once again into his brother's eyes. He saw nothing there but hopelessness and defeat…… and hurt, both mental and physical. 'Promise me David. You'll let them help?'

As they pulled the brunet to his feet in preparation for the swap round in visits, Starsky closed his eyes sadly. 'It's too late for that Nicky. Thanks for flyin' down here an' seein' me. Now go home and look after Ma huh?'


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Traff walked up the corridor towards the office occupied by the psychiatrist. Neither he nor Hutch had had chance to meet the Doctor, they'd merely relied on the Warden to brief the shrink on what was needed. The soldier braced himself for the meeting expecting the usual white coated and bespectacled medic usually associated with jails. As the guard showed him into the small and tidy office, his breath was taken away by the sight of Beth Knot. Her slim figure was dressed in a baby blue close fitting blouse and pencil skirt in dark charcoal, her long legs naked and tanned and her feet enclosed in plain black court shoes with killer heels. She was the furthest away from his idea of a shrink as he thought he could get. As Beth motioned for him to sit down, Traff grinned at her.

'What does a guy have to do to get some time alone with you?' he asked smoothly.

The woman smiled back fascinated by this man who looked so much like her patient. 'Probably a stage three schizo episode with some auditory hallucinations.'

'Hmm. Would a chilled Chablis and caviar cut it instead?'

Beth sat down opposite, immediately liking the soldier's easy manner. 'You're David Starsky's friend.'

'I thought he was 02698 Starsky in here' Traff said, the smile fading from his face.

'I don't go by numbers. Any patient past my door is treated in exactly the same manner.'

'Now that I like Doc. How is he?'

'Patient confidentiality dictates….'

'To hell with patient confidentiality. I've known that man for an eternity. We served together in the war and we've been close ever since. I don't know how to tell you this Doc, but there's something not right with him. And before you agree blindly, I mean wrong in that he'd even contemplate killing his partner, let alone try to carry it out. Starsky is one of the most loyal, caring, gentle, best men I know. If I had a brother I'd want him to be just like Curly. I don't, so I'm honored to call him my best friend. I'd give my right arm for him and he'd lay down his life for me. Just like he'd lay it down for every other flake and turkey in this mean old city. So don't give me the patient confidentiality crap. I need to know from a professional just how he is, one way or the other.'

For a moment, Beth looked at the man in front of her. He looked a lot like David. He had the same handsome face, the same olive skin and curly hair and the same way of looking quizzically at her, intelligence and calmness shining from eyes that were emerald green rather than sapphire blue. Although the soldier in front of her seemed to have something of a rough around the edges quality to him, he also exuded warmth and care and she was touched by the obvious bond he had with Starsky. She coughed self consciously and shuffled the papers on her desk.

'You're right to be concerned. I do think there's something else at work here, but as yet I don't know what. I do know though that David wasn't acting of his own volition.'

'You mean someone made him do it'?' Traff asked, sitting forward in his seat.

'Maybe, yes.'

'Well tell the Warden. Tell his lawyer. For God's sake tell someone. He's adamant he's gonna plead guilty next week. You need to stop this charade.'

'What am I supposed to tell them Mr Trafford? That I have a feeling? That I have a twinge in my corn? I need evidence. That's what a doctor does, much like a cop. I get evidence together to prove a theory. When I have that evidence, then I can go to the warden and I can tell him, but until then…… I'm sorry. I feel bad too. I want to help your friend.'

Traff tried to compose himself, his temper under tight wraps. 'Tell me your thoughts Doc. What do you think is happening here? Help me understand this' He said, his voice low and intense.

'I think someone hypnotised him. I think he may still under that hypnotic suggestion' Beth blurted out against her better judgment.

'Well you tried hypnosis on him. Snap him out of it!'

'It isn't that simple. I think what happened to David needed a trigger word and only the person who put him under will have it. Likewise only the person who put him under will be able to bring him out.'

Traff rubbed his finger along his temple. 'And how do we find out who he is?' he asked as though of himself.

'I have no idea. That's where you cops come in' Beth said gently. 'I only came up with the idea.

'Um….I aint a cop lady. Just a jobbing soldier. Colonel Tom Trafford at your service, Traff to my friends' he threw her a swift salute.

'Jobbing huh? Nothing "jobbing" about making Colonel. My father was military. Made General before he retired. I take my hat off to you.'

'Well take it off to Starsky too. He made Major before he was retired.'

Beth made an impressed face and nodded. 'You get the leads together and I'll work on the hypnosis thing. I don't even know if all this is possible. Let me do some research. Maybe call a few experts huh? I believe you're going to visit with David?'

Traff nodded.

'Be careful Traff, he's hurting and he's confused. That's a deadly combination in the wrong hands.'

The soldier stood and straightened his tee shirt. 'I'll be cool. Thanks Doc. I'll be seein' ya.'

Beth nodded as she watched the retreating back 'Hope so' she muttered as she went back to her work.

Traff walked back down to the visiting hall with the silent guard. Nicky was waiting outside, his visit having finished and the younger Starsky looked positively rattled.

'How'd it go?' the soldier asked. Nicky plastered a smile on his face. 'Piece of cake. He's fine. Typical David huh? Shall I wait outside for ya, or shall I get a cab back to the airport?'

Traff scowled. 'The air….you're not stayin'? I thought you were….'

'I said I'd come and visit him. Whatever's goin down, it's nuthin to do with me. I can't do nuthin while he's in here, an' according to the great David Starsky, this is exactly where he's gonna stay. Typical David, even when he's in the wrong he's in the right. Even in jail he's a sanctimonious bastard. i've had enough of his "I did it I deserve to suffer" routine. I'd be wastin' my time to stay, an' he told me to go back home. Who am I to argue with my big bro? He tells me to go home an' I go, like a good little boy. So what's it to be?'

The curly haired soldier was lost for words. The few conversations he's had with Starsky about his brother had painted a bad picture of his friend's younger sibling, but Traff had been willing to make his own decisions. When Nicky had come willingly down to Bay City, he's had new hope that Starsky might at least have some family support, but now, he saw Nick's visit had been for curiosity only.

'Fine. Fuck off back home Nick. You can find your own way out, right?' he snapped as he turned his back on the smaller man and knocked on the door to the visiting hall. He was allowed in and walked over to the table indicated by the guard. After submitting to a final search, Traff sat down on the plastic chair bolted to the floor and put his hands flat on the table, waiting for his friend.

His first sight of the cop took his breath away. Starsky had been taken outside the hall until everything was in place for the visit, and he'd not been told who he would be seeing. It seemed crazy to think he'd have another legal so soon after the last and so as he shuffled through the door, he gasped as he saw Traff waiting for him and almost turned round there and then. Traff came to his feet as Starsky walked in, but was reminded to remain seated by a restraining hand from one of the guards on his shoulder. He sat, grimacing as he watched his friend shuffle awkwardly towards him, belt, anklets and manacles still in place. But it wasn't just the restraints that made Traff gasp. There was something else about that walk. The soldier knew his friend well enough to see immediately that Starsky was hurting, or had been hurt and the soldier's blood boiled.

He breathed deep, knowing now was not the right time or place to make a scene and ask Starsky came to a ragged halt next to the table he looked up and smiled.

'Hey there Curly' he said softly.

The guards by the brunet's side pushed him down into the chair and took a few paces backwards, giving the two men a modicum of space and privacy. As they stood back, bored looks on their faces, Traff got his first really good look at his friend. Starsky sported a fading black eye and one or two larger bruises over his forearms, but he also had a fresh wound on the side of his neck and it was that which took the soldier's attention.

Starsky refused to meet his friend's eyes. He'd rather have not had this meeting at all. Touched as he was at the support of his friends, the visit opened up the wounds he'd so carefully numbed. When he didn't see Hutch or anyone from his life "outside", he could almost forget and find life in the Pen bearable. When his normal life intruded, however, the ripples caused by seeing his buddies were almost too much for him to handle. It was simpler just to let go and cut himself off completely. And yet….

'Curly? How're ya doin' buddy?' Traff tried again.

'M'fine' the mumbled reply was hardly audible with the brunet's chin lodged as it was on his chest.

'Ya don't look fine to me. Who's been beatin' up on ya?'

Starsky's head came up suddenly and angry indigo eyes regarded his friend.

'Don't' he said.

'Don't? Don't what? Don't ask? Don't care? Don't make assumptions about what I know is goin' on? Tell me. I know what goes on in these places. I grew up in a home for Gods sake an' I'm not gonna go away till you tell me. Tell me how you are and what they've done to ya.'

The care and concern held in his old army buddy's voice was too much. After weeks of cold, hard commands and solitary confinement, Starsky's carefully built and preserved wall of indifference started to crack. Had this been Hutch, he would never have allowed himself the luxury of relaxing and just being "Starsky". With his partner, the brunet would have striven to make sure that nothing hurt Hutch; that nothing made the situation more uncomfortable than it already was for the blond. He would never consciously hurt Hutch. Starsky snickered to himself. Well other than filling him full of lead, he'd never hurt Hutch! But with Traff, things were different. He was no better friend than the blond, just different. They'd shared different experiences together and their friendship was built on a bedrock of adversity. Traff was probably the only man in the world with whom Starsky could come clean and tell it like it was. He had no need to protect the soldier because Traff had had enough life experiences of his own to be able to handle this, and suddenly the dam of the brunet's emotions broke.

Starsky leaned forward, placing his manacled hands on the table and his carefully arranged veneer of self reliance finally fell away. 'I'm scared Traff. I'm scared every fuckin hour of every day. I've nowhere to go, no one to talk to. They come for me almost every day. There's this one fuckin' guy, a big guy, broad Irish accent, he's a guard. He comes for me an'.' Starsky touched the side of his neck, wincing at the contact with the fresh wound. He withdrew his fingers and wiped the still oozing blood on the sleeve of his shirt. 'And the worst thing of all is that I deserve it. Every fuckin' minute that he's doin' that to me, I deserve it. Every second his hands are on me, I tell myself not to fight it, coz I should be punished for what I did to Hutch. I can't hurt enough to make up for what I did to him. My partner' he said bitterly. 'The man I swore to protect above all others an' I try to kill him!'

A single tear rolled down the side of Starsky's nose and he wiped at it angrily. 'Look at me! I don't even know if I'm cryin' for me or for him'. I'm fucked Traff. I'm fucked. You shouldn't have come buddy. Just leave me alone huh?'

'Do you mean that? You really want me to go?' Traff asked, his heart bleeding for his friend who was so obviously hurting. Beth was right. This wasn't the Dave Starsky he knew. Something was most definitely wrong. The soldier's blood boiled to think that the guards had touched his friend, and moreover that the brunet had not fought back. 'Curly no-one deserves what they're doin' to ya. You should report it. Lemme tell the Warden, he'd never want that to happen. Let me do somethin' buddy. They beat ya I can see, but they um….. how many times?'

Starsky's eyes slid away from the piercing gaze again and stared at the floor. 'Dunno…. How many days have I been in here?'

'They've done this every….oh shit buddy! Tell someone. Why didn't ya ask for me to visit? Why wouldn't ya see Hutch?'

A look of terror came over the brunet's face. 'No! Not Hutch. I can't face him. I can't ever face him again. This is tough enough Traff, don't make it any harder. I told ya, but I don't want ya to do nuthin. Got that? Nuthin. Now just go. Leave me alone, there's nuthin you can do, nuthin anyone can do. I did it. I'm guilty an' I'm gonna pay. Guard!'

Starsky stood up from the table as the guards came to collect him.

'I'm comin' back Curly. I'll be back to see ya' Traff called.

The brunet looked over his shoulder. 'Don't do nuthin Traff, don't!'

But as Starsky was led away, the curly haired soldier got up to leave, casting a final look at his friend. There, on the inside of the leg of Starsky's pants was a smear of dried blood and Traff's temper finally snapped.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Traff watched his friend shuffle out of the room, the chains on his manacles clanking dismally in his wake, and his temper rose. He'd heard of what went on in jails. He knew what went on in most institutions having spent his formative years in children's homes after his father was killed while in the Army. In the dim and distant past, he'd suffered the same sort of abuse, but while he'd had the opportunity to fight back, his blood boiled that Starsky had neither the ability nor the inclination to want to put a stop to the rapes and the beatings. The soldier rose slowly from the table and stretched wearily. It had been a long and difficult day and his eyes felt as though they were lined with sandpaper. First of all there had been Hutch's collapse the previous day, then his phone call with Nicky and his meeting with the younger Starsky and then after that had been his visit with his old army buddy. Now all he wanted to do was to go back to Hutch's place, have a shower and get rid of the stink of the jail. It permeated his very pores and he felt dirty from merely sitting down on the visitor's chair.

Traff walked to the door and knocked to be let out. The corridor outside was empty and he assumed that Nicky had gone to find his own way back to the airport. He wasn't fond of the younger Starsky and could understand why his buddy didn't talk about his younger brother too much. If Nicky had been his own younger brother, he'd have tried to hide the fact too. That was another reason for Traff's blood pressure to rise. While the younger sibling had managed to get on a plane with alacrity, Traff couldn't help but have the impression that Nicky had come to gloat, or if not to gloat, then at least help wasn't at the forefront of his mind.

With a sigh, Traff walked down the long corridor and back to the reception hall. He looked at his watch. 6:00pm and there was obviously a change over in shifts as the reception hall was full of uniformed officers, all looking at their watches and talking about home, what was on TV that night and what their wives would have made for their dinners. The voices were loud in the confined space, mid western accents mixing with Mexican mixing with Southern Californian and above them all, one loud and very broad Irish accent.

The soldier homed in on the voice and found that it was coming from a very tall and powerfully built guard who stood almost head and shoulders above the others. The man had a shock of black hair and as he turned to say something to one of his friends, Traff saw he had twinkling green eyes and a florid complexion. Immediately, Traff targeted the guy. This must be the man who'd beaten up and assaulted his friend. How many other big Irish guards were there likely to be in Bay City Penitentiary?

Thomas Trafford was not known for his tolerance of bullies. The men under his command always found him to be fair, courageous, inspirational even and wouldn't have a bad word said against him. He gave them 110 percent and expected the same back. He would fight for his men tooth and nail but the only thing he couldn't and wouldn't tolerate was bullying. He'd often said it was the mark of a true coward and had made it his sole responsibility in the 8th battalion to eradicate it, and as in his work, he hated to see big men prey on the more vulnerable. Right now that equated to the big guard in front of him and how he'd treated Starsky.

As the crowd started to thin in the reception hall, Traff hung back. There were other people coming in now, ready to visit inmates before the night's lockdown and it was easy for the soldier to mark the guard and follow him outside. There, Traff blended in with the rapidly lengthening shadows as Rafferty made his way around to the staff parking lot. It was quieter here and the soldier watched carefully which car the guard got into, then raced around to his own car, got in and made it to the gate just as Rafferty was pulling away onto the main highway. Following at a reasonable distance, Traff started to plan what he would do when he actually managed to get the guy on his own. He smiled wolfishly. The guard might be big, but Traff had surprise, agility and speed on his side.

Rafferty pulled up along the roadside further down the highway by the side of a Dunkin Donut. As he got out of his Oldsmobile and wandered into the small diner, Traff pulled his T-bird into the lot a little way away and sat watching. The place was deserted, Rafferty being their only customer in the growing twilight. The soldier smiled to himself. Great. The Irishman must be a divorcee. Only an single man would call at a place like that for dinner on the way home. Most self respecting married guys would have the little woman waiting with a plate of stew and a cool beer.

Half an hour went by and still Rafferty didn't reappear. Traff got to thinking that either the guard was having a quickie with the waitress out back, or he was lonelier than the soldier originally thought. Whatever the reason, it was another twenty minutes before the door swung open and Rafferty walked back out onto the car park, scratching thoughtfully at his belly with one hand while he picked his teeth with his other finger. Quietly, the curly headed soldier got out of his car and stood with his back to the door, arms crossed, relaxed and ready. Rafferty didn't even look up as he passed the other man. Traff watched him meander past and as the guard's hand reached for his car door handle he called over to him.

'Like curls do ya?'

Rafferty turned and looked at the stranger. 'Huh?'

Traff pushed himself away from his car and stood with his arms by his sides. 'Do you prefer blonds or brunets?'

'What's your problem mister? You a pervert or somethin'?'

'Well it'd take one to know one' Traff goaded.

'What? You talkin' 'bout me?'

'Yeah, I'm talkin' about you. I just wondered if you preferred your brunets bound hand and foot, or do ya wanna try your luck with one who can fight back.'

The guard snickered. 'Who the hell are you?'

'That don't matter. I'm someone who wants to get even.'

'Even for what? I never saw ya before in my life.'

Traff snorted. 'Yeah, I know. But you've been makin' yourself acquainted with a friend of mine, an' I'm here to tell ya to back off.'

Rafferty backed up a step. Traff was cool, calm, collected. He had a steely look in his eyes and a blazing anger shining across his handsome face. He looked quietly dangerous.

'Which friend. I don't now what you're talkin' about.'

'What about a number? 02698 mean anythin' to ya? Or maybe two words Dave Starsky.' Traff took a few steps closer, watching as the huge bully backed up until his car stopped him backing any further.

The guard's face split into a sardonic grin. 'You his boyfriend? I thought he was too pretty to be straight. Funny, he never said a word when I slid into that tight little ass.' Rafferty saw the slight narrowing of Traff's eyes and knew he'd touched a nerve. He tried to press home his advantage. 'Aww, what's up pretty boy? Aint ya had any of it yet? Thought not. That was a nice tight virgin ass if ever I saw one. All neat an puckered, or at least it was to begin with. It's kinda getting' used to me now. Shame you couldn't have had any. Want me to stretch it some more for ya?'

Traff listened to the hard Irish voice with loathing. He balled his hands into fists, knowing now was not the time to lose control. If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it right, and he needed to be careful.

Rafferty was obviously pleased with himself and his witty repartees and he turned to put the keys in the door lock of his car. Traff took his chance and swift as a rattler, he struck, swinging his arm round to wrap around Rafferty's throat. The big guy had nowhere to go. Standing 6" taller than Traff, if he stood up with the arm round his windpipe, he would have throttled himself and so he remained bent over the car as Traff took a better hold.

'Ya gonna be quiet big guy?' Traff hissed into his ear.

'Um…..do I have a choice? Yeah, I'll be quiet.'

'Fine' Traff started to loosen his grip slightly, meaning to alter his hold on Rafferty. The guard felt the movement and turned, struggling to grab at Traff's face. He managed to drag his finger nails down the soldier's cheek, drawing four dark furrows of blood from eye to mouth. Traff snapped.

'Is that it? That's your style? Jeez, ya fight like a girl! Maybe that's why ya like the boys huh?'

With a grunt, Traff renewed his grip on Rafferty's neck and with all his strength pulled the guard's head down, slamming it into the roof of the car. He felt, rather than saw the big man's nose crack and allowed the guard to straighten slightly before he spun the dazed man around so that his back was leaning against the car.

'My friend knew better than to fight back, but I guess it's tough to do that with those chains on. Ya like 'em when they're powerless, don't ya, you pervert. Well you won't be using these again any time soon.' Traff pushed his knee in between Rafferty's legs, widening the space and then brought his knee up full force into the guard's balls.

Rafferty let out a strangled mewling noise and doubled over, his hands going instinctively to the centre of his body. He gasped, whimpering quietly as Traff took a handful of hair and pulled the big man's head back so that he could look into the man's tearing eyes.

'You leave my friend alone. You touch him again, and you'll have no balls left, ya hear. Touch Dave Starsky…..look at him in the wrong way an' I'm gonna find ya, and take ya. I'm gonna cut your balls off an' ram them so far down your throat you're gonna choke on 'em. Is that clear?'

'I'll fuckin' kill him if you touch me again' Rafferty grunted.

With infinite care, Traff reached down and took a handful of trouser along with contents. As he gazed into Rafferty's eyes, he started to squeeze and turn the cock and balls as though he were going to rip them off and as Rafferty squealed again, he grinned.

'Let that be a warning. Touch Starsky again, an' you'll be singing falsetto for the rest of your life. Now fuck off and be sure I'm gonna be watching ya. Remember that. You aren't gonna be able to scratch your ass without I know about it.'

Traff let go of the man and he sank to his knees on the ground as very calmly, the soldier walked over to his car, got in and drove away without a backwards glance.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Hutch lay on his back and stared at the ceiling wondering how long he'd been in the hospital. It seemed like forever although judging by the feel of the bristles on his unshaven chin, it didn't think it could have been more than 24 hours. The pains in his chest had gone and the infernal headache he'd had for days had also gone. Now his head felt fuzzy and stuffed with cotton candy, but the pains had dissipated and he could think more clearly. Whether thinking was a good or a bad thing, however, was something he had yet to decide.

His last recollection had been of the argument he'd had with his parents inside his hospital room and Traff's angry face as he'd bawled Dr Hutchinson out. Hutch grinned to himself. It was about time someone stood up to the eminent doctor and who better to do that than the soldier? Traff hadn't before met Hutch's parents and had never sampled the delights of the Hutchinson bedside manner but it had been obvious that Traff was unimpressed.

And thinking of Traff, where was he? Hutch remembered drifting away on a cushion of something that felt suspiciously like morphine while the soldier had still been there, but now his room was empty, and that made him feel worse. Not that he was childish enough to need someone there with him all the time. That wasn't it at all, but in all the times that Hutch had been sick in the past ten or twelve years, there had been one person who'd steadfastly refused to move until he was ready for discharge. Now that person had been missing from the blond's life for almost a month and Hutch missed Starsky more keenly than he'd ever thought possible.

Starsky.

The last time he'd seen his partner, Starsky had taken one look at him, had turned on his heel and had gone. Hutch had shouted after him, desperate to tell the smaller man that he didn't blame him for what had been done and yet for some reason – for whatever reason was going on in that curly brunet head, Starsky had not wanted to talk. Instead he had shut Hutch out although the blond had seen hurt, fear and distrust in the fleeting glimpse he'd had of those indigo eyes.

He sighed. _Starsk, come back to me. I don't know what's goin' on but let me in buddy. I can help…..if you'd just let me._

Hutch let his mind wander back to the last case.

_They'd turned up no leads on the case. Each and every guy they interviewed about the case either said they remembered nothing __about any odd goings on at the Children's home, or they got abusive and protective. There was one teacher whose name came up time and time again. Edgar Fisher, but when pressed the former residents were all of the opinion that although they didn't like him, there was nothing really that they could say against him. It was kind of disconcerting that no-one wanted to talk._

_By the second week of the investigation, Hutch had had another one of those crank phone calls and two more skeletons had been discovered, bringing the total number of bodies recovered to five. About this time, Hutch also started to see a change in his partner. _

_It all started that one morning when Hutch had gone around for his partner. It wasn't unusual to find the brunet still in bed, but this particular morning, Hutch had to pound on the bedroom door before he heard a startled grunt and a bad tempered 'Fine. I'm comin' from the interior of the room, Minutes later the brunet appeared, rubbing his hands through his curls and looking like he'd had the worst night on record._

'_Wow, you look like shit!' Hutch said. 'How many did you have last night?'_

'_Huh?'_

'_Beers, tequilas….whatever. How many?'_

'_None, why?'_

'_Cos you look like you downed a brewery buddy. Are you sick?'_

'_No…..yeah…..dunno, maybe. I feel like I've never been asleep, an' yet I think I went to bed early.'_

'_You think you did? Didn't you sleep?'_

_Starsky glared at his partner. 'What is this? 20 questions? I said I was fine. I'll be with ya in a minute. Just lemme go shower.'_

_Hutch watched his partner skip into the bathroom and there was the sound of running water, followed by quiet, a curse, splashing and then silence again. Ten minutes later, Starsky emerged washed and dressed and with pieces of toilet tissue stuck on his chin, obviously blotting up the blood from the razor cuts. Hutch wisely made no comment and the brunet followed him out to the car and sat in the front seat morosely._

'_Is it girl trouble?' the blond asked softly._

'_I said leave it!' Starsky almost yelled and immediately looked ashamed. 'I'm sorry. I have no idea where that just came from!'_

'_S'ok. Are you worried about somethin'?' Hutch asked._

'_Worried? No, I don't think so, why?'_

'_Coz you don't usually bawl me out first thing in the mornin' without you're worried about somethin'. Is it the case? Is that what it is?'_

_The brunet put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. 'I have to admit it's not my favourite case, no, but I'm not worried about it. Are you?'_

_Hutch pursed his lips. 'Not really no. I wish we could get a lead on it. I think that part of it is getting' to me. And that guy, that Edgar! He's beginnin' to creep me out. How can a guy be so unpopular and yet no-on wants to get involved in what he's doin'?'_

'_He's fine. It aint Edgar's fault!' Starsky snapped, looking up sharply._

'_I didn't say it was buddy. I just said it's strange that no-one wants to get involved with him.'_

'_Well maybe that's coz he aint done nunthin. Have you thought about that, huh?' the brunet said, rubbing at his temples slowly._

'_Yeah, perhaps. Want an aspirin, there's some in the glove box.'_

'_Why?'_

'_Coz you're rubbin' your head like you do when you have a headache' Hutch said and reached over to get the box from the cubby hole. He dropped it into Starsky's lap and the brunet took two white pills and dry swallowed them, grimacing at the taste._

_The day was much the same as the others in the case. They trawled the streets, they ploughed through countless more files from kids who'd been through the Children's home and then left to go on to other jobs, crime, families….. you name it. Each and every time they came up with one name. Edgar Fisher and each and every time, for some reason, Starsky was adamant that he had nothing at all to do with anything. Each and every time the name was mentioned he became quite insistent that Edgar was the wrong person to be interviewing. By the end of the day, Hutch was left wondering about what was going on, and as he dropped his partner back at his apartment, he took his life in his hands and asked once again._

'_Are you sure you're ok, Gordo. I mean, you gotta admit, you've been on edge today.'_

_Starsky looked at his finger nails, considering his reply. 'M'sorry. I guess I haven't been very good company. It's just. I feel so damned tired and I can't get rid of this headache. It's lookin' at all those files. Maybe I need glasses. D'ya think they'd make me look intellectual?'_

'_I think it'd take more'n glasses buddy. Go an' have a rest huh? An early night maybe. Take a whiskey and get some shut eye. See ya tomorrow.'_

'_Yeah, I'll see ya. If the damned phone would stop ringin' I'd be better. See ya.'_

_Starsky got out of the car and Hutch watched him walk wearily up the steps. There was no strut in the step. The brunet looked weary beyond words and Hutch resolved that with or without the brunet he was going to investigate the teacher._

Hutch's thoughts were interrupted by the doctor coming back into the room. The medic walked to the end of the bed and took the chart from the hanger. He read the numbers then smiled at the blond and checked pulse, BP and temperature.

'You've got good recuperative powers' he muttered as he wrote the numbers down on the chart and re-hung it.

'When can I get out of here?' Hutch asked, surprised that his voice sounded strong. He pushed himself further up on the bed and propped a pillow up behind him.

'How do you feel…… honestly? I know your kind. You'll tell me anything to make a great escape and then you'll be back in here within a few days making even more work for us.'

Hutch smiled. He liked the medic's straight forward attitude. 'I feel better than I did, but there again, I guess it's tough to feel much worse. I just….there's stuff I have to do out there Doc and I need to be out of this bed and workin'. So….'

The Doctor snorted. 'I guess the fact that you're feelin' well enough to actually be concerned with work is an indication that you're getting better. But you don't need me to tell you that you had major surgery a month ago and were only discharged from the hospital a few days ago. I'm sure then that you were given instructions to rest, which you blatantly ignored which is why you're back here now.' The man looked at the consternation written all over the blond's face and sighed. 'If you promise to stay put for the rest of today, resting, then maybe I can see about discharging you tomorrow. But this time, you need to rest, otherwise you'll do even more damage to yourself, ok?'

'Message received, loud and clear. I promise I'll be good' Hutch said with a grin as he settled himself back down on the bed. 'Not goin' anywhere, not doin' anything.'

'And see that it stays that way' the medic grinned as he went out of the room.

Hutch settled back on the bed and must have drifted off to sleep because the next time he opened his eyes, he was staggered to find that the sun was once more going down and his private room was bathed in a warm amber glow from the lamp on the table opposite the bottom of the bed. The blond stretched lazily and opened his eyes, miffed that the needle from the drip feed was still in the back of his hand, but surprised at just how well and rested he felt. He rolled his head sideways on the pillow and smiled as he saw Traff asleep in the easy chair next to his bed.

The soldier must have been dozing lightly as the noises from the bed awoke him and his emerald green eyes focused on his friend.

'Well don't you look better?' he said as he sat up straighter in the chair and brushed his hands though his short curly hair.

'I might do, but what the hell happened to you buddy? Who did you argue with huh?'

Traff ran his fingers lightly down the side of his face. The four furrows on his cheek were beginning to heal although they still stung viciously despite him having cleaned them thoroughly and plastered them with antiseptic ointment.

'This is nothin'. You should've seen the other guy!'

'I'm glad I didn't. What did you do? Or more to the point what did he do?'

A shadow fell across Traff's face. He knew he had to come clean and tell Hutch about Rafferty, but the blond cop seemed to be doing so well, he didn't want to make him feel worse. Damn!

'I did some phoning after I left you' he started cautiously. 'Your visit with your Mom and Dad got me to thinking that if I had parents I'd probably want them to know what was going on, so I um…..I phoned Rachel.'

'Oh shit!'

'S'ok, she wasn't in. She's sick. She's upstate visiting with her cousin. But um….Nicky was there.'

'Fuck! He'd love the fact that Starsky's behind bars.'

Traff chuckled 'Didn't he just! He um….. he got on a plane and came right down here. He saw his brother last night.'

'Last night? Hold on….. just how long have I been in here? How long was I out?' Hutch asked.

'I brought you in two days ago. I kept phoning, but they said you were sleepin'. Don't sweat it, you needed the rest.'

'Yeah, but still…. I haven't slept the clock around since my college days and that was only after some pretty heavy partying. I had no idea!'

'Well you look better for it' Traff said, honestly.

'Yeah, I feel it. Or at least I did till you told me about Nick. Where is he?'

'Well, you were right about him. He saw Curly but didn't stick around. He's gone back up north.'

'So you argued with him?' Hutch asked, pointing at the wounds on the soldier's face.

'Huh? Oh, no. These were um…... I had a visit with the shrink that Mallozzi put onto Starsky's case. She seems to think there's some kinda outside force at work here. She's looking into it and she says she'll get back to me.'

'That's great news, but you're changing the subject.'

'Who, me?' Traff sighed. 'Promise me you won't get riled up buddy.'

The blond grimaced. 'Well I will if you don't tell me what's goin' on.'

'Well after Nicky saw him, I had a visit with Curly too.'

'You mean he actually saw ya? Oh well that's just peachy!' Hutch started.

Traff held up his hand. 'I said I wouldn't tell you if ya start getting' bent over. Yeah, he saw me, although he didn't want to, to begin with. But he did, and he's scared. I mean real scared. I've never seen him like that. I could tell he was hurt so finally he opened up an' told me that one of the guards has um…… look buddy, it's dealt with. You don't need to know nothin' more. I handled it, ok?'

Hutch snorted. 'No, not ok _buddy_. Tell me what happened. Who hurt him? How?' is he ok?'

'He's taken a few beatings and to be honest he was askin' for a couple of 'em. But um…. this guard… turns out he likes some of his prisoners more'n others. He um….' The soldier's voice tailed off lamely.

'He's assaulted him? Sexually?' Hutch asked softly.

Traff nodded. 'That's about the size of it. He described the guy to me and I just happened to see him clocking off his shift so I um….. I followed him and warned him off. I don't think he'll be worryin' Curly again any time soon.'

Hutch rested his head on the pillow feeling suddenly tired once again. He pictured his partner alone in that jail at he mercy of the guards and a feeling of impending doom washed over him.

'Oh Starsk….. be careful huh buddy?'


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

'_I've pulled some files on Edgar Fisher. He's a saint. He's done nothing wrong in all the time he's been a teacher. Exemplary work record; never had a girlfriend; never even said boo to a goose. He's as pure as the driven snow' Hutch said as he propped his elbows wearily on the table and dry scrubbed at his face._

'_I said he was. I told ya, you're barkin' up the wrong tree buddy. We should be concentratin' our minds on solvin' the case, not persecutin' the poor guy.'_

_Hutch's jaw dropped open in disbelief. 'Persecuting? Who're ya callin' a "poor guy"? He's as slimy as an eel and twice as slippery. What is it with you Starsk? Jeez ya sound like you're in love with the guy.'_

'_Fuck it Hutchinson! Will you leave Edgar Fisher out of this! Just leave it huh?' Starsky yelled and threw his pen down on his desk. A couple of the other detectives in the squad room looked up with raised eyebrows, but said nothing. Starsky had been getting steadily tetchier for a couple of days and they knew better than to get on the wrong side of the brunet's temper. Instead, they busied themselves in their own files and one by one sidled out of the office._

'_See what you've done now?' Hutch muttered._

'_Me? What did I do?'_

'_I don't know what it is with you Gordo. What's gotten into you? I can't say two words of the wrong sort to ya without ya jumping down my neck! I need to know. Is it the case, or are ya sick, or is it that you're just suddenly fed up with me?'_

'_No, no an' no!'_

'_Well what? Every time I mention the case or Fisher you're jumpier than a pan of popcorn on a stove. I tell ya buddy, this has got to stop, and stop now.'_

_Starsky sighed heavily. 'M'sorry. I just wish I could stop feelin' so damned tired all the time. An' I keep getting' these phone calls late at night. They make me feel kinda jumpy and then I don't sleep good.'_

'_Phone calls? Who from? Are they nuisance calls? You can….'_

'_No, they're not nuisance calls' the brunet grunted a little quicker than would have been usual. _

'_Well who're they from?'_

_They're from… from…they're……what does it matter who they're from? I wasn't complainin' about 'em. It was you who brought the subject up. Just leave it huh?'_

_Hutch shrugged his shoulders. 'K Whatever you want buddy. But Thursday we get to the bottom of this of this one way or the other.'_

_Starsky raised his eyebrows. 'Huh?'_

'_Uh huh. I made a call. Edgar Fisher is comin' in on Thursday, so we can ask him face to face what's goin' on.'_

_The smaller man's face burned turkey cock red with indignation. 'You got no right to bring him in!'_

'_Yes, I do Starsk. He's one of the few folk left around here who worked at the home. And like it or not, everyone we interviewed had something none too complimentary to say about him. He's coming, and that's that.'_

There was a sound outside Starsky's door and he got up off the bed shakily. Every sound these days seemed to make him feel panicky and the tide of fear swelled up his chest as the door swung open. With relief, the brunet saw that it wasn't Rafferty, but one of the other guards. Maybe today was the Irishman's day off. He could only hope! Without comment, and without waiting to be asked, Starsky turned and braced himself against the wall as the guard silently put the belt and cuffs on him.

'Where to boss?' he asked quietly.

'Back to the shrink. I think she's taken a fancy to you, lucky dog!' the guard said with a grin. He was one of the more human ones and Starsky found himself grinning back as he shuffled alongside the uniformed man back to the hospital wing. For a little while at least he could relax and to be truthful, a little bit of eye candy in the shape of Beth Knott would do wonders for his soul. He followed meekly as he was ushered into the small, neat office and sat down as the woman turned and pointed to the chair. The guard turned to go, but Beth called him back.

'I need you to unlock those' she pointed to the restraints. 'It's ok, I have the Warden's permission and you'll be right outside the door right?' she assured the man.

Pausing only for a moment, the guard took out the large bunch of keys and undid the manacles but left the belt buckled in place. Starsky made no comment, but stood absently rubbing at his wrists. He'd worn the damned cuffs so long over the past couple of days, and had struggled so hard with Rafferty the day before that he had red welts around them and they burned fiercely.

Beth smiled at the curly haired man. 'I want you to lie down on the table there' she indicated a long, black upholstered medical table arranged across the back of the room, it's head end raised and decorated with a plain white pillow.

Once upon a time the brunet would have made some smart comment about not getting into bed with a girl on a second date, but those days seemed long ago. He was empty, a shell in the shape of Dave Starsky and against the shock of shooting his partner, the treatment he'd received at the hands of the guard had left him feeling worthless and dirty – a puppet in the hands of these people. They pulled his strings and he danced for them. Starsky walked over to the bed and lay down on it, hands folded across his belly as he stared at the ceiling. Beth came to stand by him.

'Dave, before the incident with your partner, did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Maybe an odd conversation or someone asking crazy questions maybe?'

The brunet let out a breath, trying to force his mind to go back to that awful time. It hurt him both mentally and physically to remember shooting Hutch and his breath quickened, his hands fluttering on his stomach as he fought for the memories.

'I um….. I remember going home. We'd had a bad day – an argument. I always seemed to be arguing with him and yet I didn't know why. He's so easy going and he used to put up with all the crazy things I did and yet I kept getting mad at him. Anyhow, he dropped me off at home and….. I was tired, very tired.'

'Why? Was there any particular reason you were tired?' Beth asked.

'Um…. I kept getting phone calls, late at night. I remember the calls, but I can't remember who they were from. He kept asking me about it. Hutch kept askin' me but I couldn't tell him. I tried but I….I couldn't…..I couldn't tell him, but I don't know why!'

Beth's voice was calm, reassuring the curly haired prisoner. 'You're doing well Dave. I want you to concentrate on my voice. Listen to my voice and feel yourself relaxing. That's it. Your eyes are getting heavy and you're closing them now.' the woman watched as her patient calmed down, his body relaxing onto the bed and his eyelashes dark smudges against his olive toned cheeks.

'Can you hear me Dave?'

'Yeah.' The voice was relaxed and had a far away quality to it.

'I want you to think back to the telephone calls. Let the thoughts flow into one. Don't try to stop them, just watch as they flow through your memory. Now. Who were the phone calls from?'

'I'm sitting on the sofa. It's late an' I'm thinkin' about goin' to bed and then the phone rings. I pick it up. 'H'llo.' I recognise the voice. It's the same voice as last night.'

'Who is it?' Beth asked quietly.

'It's… I recognise the voice. It's…..it……I know it. I know his name. It's…..' Starsky's voice started to rise again and Beth realised she was getting nowhere. She changed tack.

'Let it pass Dave. Relax and let it pass. Good. Now concentrate on your breathing. I want you to listen to my voice. You're going to remember the phone call, but the name of the caller isn't important. Just think about the words. What did the caller say?'

'I pick up the phone and listen. I recognise the voice. It's….it….'

'Move on Dave. Not the name, just what they said. Think about what they said' Beth pushed.

'I say hello and they say hi, remember me. I say yes and then they say…..they….they….oh shit!' Starsky's hands went to his head and he clutched at his temples panting through the pain in his brow. 'They tell me….to…..they say….they…..nooooo!'

Beth stepped forward, clasping the man's wrists and holding on as she put her mouth down to his ear. 'I'm bringing you out of this. When I count backwards to one, you'll wake feeling refreshed and awake. Three, two one and wake.'

But Starsky continued to struggle on the bed, his hands still up at his temples as he writhed, sweat trickling down the sides of his face as though he were in great pain. He moaned softly. 'Hurts…..said it would hurt…..shouldn't remember…..shouldn't try.'

Beth snapped her fingers by the side of the prisoner's ear and said loudly. 'Dave wake!'

There was a moment's pause and then Starsky sagged back against the black upholstery as though he were exhausted. Slowly his eyes opened and he looked around him as he wiped the back of his left hand over his brow. It came away slick with perspiration. 'What happened?' he asked quietly, feeling as though he'd just chased a perp at full speed half way across town.

Beth went to the small basin in the corner and poured a glass of water. She handed it to him. 'You've been hypnotised before' she said.

'Don't think so. I'd know wouldn't I?'

'No, maybe not. I've been doing some research and there's something called conversational hypnosis. You might never know its happening and I think these phone calls have a lot to do with it.'

'You're sayin' that someone hypnotised me down the phone? C'mon doc, that's as far fetched as little green aliens aint it?' Starsky sipped at the water appreciatively and handed the empty glass back to the woman with a smile. She tried to tear herself away from the penetrating indigo gaze.

'It is possible. I've been reading about it, but it would take someone very proficient in hypnosis to do it properly. As I understand it there are several steps.' Beth crossed to the table and took a book from the bookcase. She opened it at a marked page and started to read.

'Rapport

The first step in conversational hypnosis is creating a rapport with the subject. This means agreeing with what they have to say. For instance, if the subject says, "There's no way out of this," the proper response is, "You're right. There's no way out. The next step in is to confuse the issue. Sometimes a simple question works. "But even if there is no way out, can you be absolutely sure that a solution won't pop into your mind in the next minute or so?" Another technique used to create confusion in conversational hypnosis is to encourage resistance, perhaps by saying, "No one could solve that problem. It's simply too complex. There's absolutely no way out. You don't have a chance…" At some point, the subject will probably start arguing with you that the problem is not so unsolvable after all! Still another confusion technique is to suggest that the subject do more of something that isn't working. For instance, an obese subject might be encouraged to gain weight.'

'Suggestion. The final step in conversational hypnosis is to make an indirect suggestion such as, "You're feeling a bit less hopeless now, aren't you?" or "I don't know why, but it seems to me you look more optimistic than you did a few minutes ago."

Needless to say, conversational hypnosis is no easy feat, and it is best left to professionals. Once the subject is hypnotised trigger words can be introduced in order to allow simple, or sometimes complex commands to be given and carried out.'

Beth closed the book and put it down behind her on the table. 'I think you've been hypnotised and I'd like to try and find out for sure. How do you feel about Sodium pentothal?'

Starsky looked at her in disbelief. 'Truth serum? You think I'm lyin'?'

'No, certainly not, but it is one way of getting past the conditioning left by the hypnosis. I need your permission to give it a try, but we could do it now.'

Starsky didn't take too much convincing. He wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on as much as Beth did and he nodded, rolling up his sleeve as the woman prepared a syringe and filled it with a clear, colourless liquid. Swiftly, she swabbed an area on Starsky's upper arm and as gently as she could, pushed the needle deep into his muscle. Withdrawing it, she rubbed the injection site and stood back.

'I gotta warn ya Doc, I've had this stuff before. It just makes me feel tired and weak. It don't make me tell the truth so much.'

'When did you use it?' Beth asked, talking to while away the time for the drug to take effect.

Starsky gave a crooked, sad type of smile. 'I spent some time as a guest of the Viet Cong, go figure.' As he said it, he could feel the familiar pull of the drug as an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. His legs and arms felt heavy and his head started to swim. He closed his eyes with a quiet groan and rested his head back against the pillow, hating the feeling of powerlessness the drug brought with it.

Beth couldn't resist the impulse and gently pushed one of the curls back from his forehead. One sleepy indigo eye opened lazily and Starsky smiled. 'S'nice' he whispered.

'Ok Dave. I want you to go back to that night when you got the phone call ok. You've picked the phone up. You've answered it and it's….'

At that moment the door to the small room burst open and two of the larger guards rushed in. the woman turned in anger.

'What the hell?'

'Sorry Doc. 02698 is required back on the hall. We've got orders to bring him back to his cell.'

'But you can't. I'm half way though a treatment. Gimme five minutes huh?'

As the two big men got hold of the limp prisoner and dragged him off the bed, cuffing him again securely they grunted a refusal. 'No can do Doc. Orders is orders.'

Starsky tried to raise his head but the drug had him truly in its grip and Beth called after him as he was hauled away down the corridor.

'I'll make another appointment Dave. Try to relax huh?' Beth returned to her office and picked up the book she'd read from. She looked on the inside cover and with a pensive expression on her face started to dial the publishers number to ask to be put through to the author of "Hypnotism – power of the mind " by Edgar Fisher.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Starsky tried to get his feet under him as he was pulled along between the two guards, but his feet refused to obey him and finally he allowed his body to hang between them, the toes of his sandals drawing two parallel lines behind him, marking his progress. Twice he tried to ask the guards to stop or to tell him what he was being taken back so quickly for, but each time he was ignored, carried like a side of beef through the echoing white corridors back to his cell.

The sodium pentothal in his system refused to relinquish its hold of his mind and body, both feeling fuzzy and unco-ordinated. It was as though he'd had a whole bottle of tequila to himself but without the nausea or headache. If he'd been tucked up warm and safe in his bed back at Ridgeway, he might even have enjoyed the feeling, but the confines of the jail made him jumpy at the best of times and now the effects of the drug left him feeling even more out of control and vulnerable. As his cell hove into view, Starsky made an extra strong attempt to get his legs back under him and as the three of the got to the cell door, it opened and the two guards literally threw the brunet into the small room, stepping inside and closing the door behind them.

The curly haired prisoner stumbled and fell, cannoning into the far wall and falling to his knees. He stayed where he'd fallen on the floor, on his hands and knees, his head hanging down as he slowly shook it from side to side to try to clear it. He was disorientated and for a brief moment he was back in 'Nam, surrounded by green uniformed soldiers. Starsky breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind and he forced his head up to look at the three men in his cell. Two were the guards who had come to the doctor's office for him, the third was a huge figure of a man, whose appearance made the blood in the brunet's veins run cold.

Rafferty.

The huge Irishman looked much the worse for wear and for a second Starsky had chance to wonder what had happened to him. Rafferty stood with his legs braced a little apart, his hands behind his back, but his face was ravaged by dark black bruises across both eyes and down to the tip of his nose. That nose was obviously broken and appeared mashed to one side over the big man's face. Swelling marred the usually florid complexion and Rafferty breathed noisily through flattened nostrils.

'Get up. Don't ya know the rules yet, Blue Eyes. Always stand when a guard enters your cell' the Irishman snapped, kicking out none too gently with the toe of his boot. It connected with the brunet's ribs and he curled round, trying to protect the softer parts of his body from damage. The two other man grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet putting unbearable pressure on his cracked rib and he hissed at the sudden pain but stood drunkenly, swaying between the guards as he eyes Rafferty warily.

'You goin' to apologise pig?'

Starsky licked his lips nervously. 'Sorry' he mumbled, his brain not quite quick enough to understand what he was apologising for.

'Not good enough. You need to be taught a lesson. A private lesson. Thanks guys, I can take it from here' Rafferty said to his two colleagues. They nodded at him and without another word let go of their prisoner and left Rafferty and Starsky alone in the small stone cell. Rafferty stood by the door, his baton drawn and ready while the brunet stood with his back resting against the cell wall, his hands and feet still manacled and his chest heaving as he tried to keep his breathing under control.

Surprisingly, the Irishmen's next action was to walk over and unlock the bracelets from Starsky's wrists and ankles. 'Unbuckle the belt and throw it over onto the bunk, nice and gentle' he ordered. For a moment Starsky paused, unsure that he liked the direction this encounter was taking. Rafferty swung the baton, catching his prisoner across the ribs and taking Starsky unawares. The curly haired man grunted in pain and reached behind him, struggling with the heavy leather and the buckle. Finally he fought himself free and threw the belt down, the chains jangling merrily on the concrete floor.

'We can't have a fair fight when you're chained can we?' Rafferty said conversationally.

'I don't want to fight ya' Starsky said levelly. It was the first time in almost a month that he'd answered back but the drug in his system wore down his inhibitions and his carefully preserved wall of self protection.

'You should've thought about that before you sent your boyfriend after me, you little faggot.'

'Boyfriend? Who…. Oh.' So that was it. Traff must have identified the guard last night and decided a little retribution was in order. Way to go Traff, but on the other hand did the soldier really expect Rafferty not to retaliate? 'I didn't do nuthin.'

'You expect me to believe that? You want me to think that that pretty boy of yours was jealous that he didn't have none of your tight little ass an' I did? I don't think so. I think 02698 decided he didn't like his friend Rafferty any more and sent curly there to work me over. Did ya really think I'd just stand and take it?'

'You got it wrong boss.' The last word stuck in Starsky's throat, but he was keeping an admirable hold on his temper, even though for the first time in a long time, it was simmering below the surface. Whether it was the hypnotism or the drug in his system, Starsky didn't know. All he felt was the power of the adrenaline from his temper surging through his body and for the first time since the terrible shooting, he felt alive – a human being rather than some doll to be pushed from pillar to post. He stood a little straighter and glared at the big guard with contempt in his eyes, goading the big man into action.

'Got it wrong do I? I think it's you that's got it wrong puppy. And little puppy's gonna suffer now for what he did to his master. On your knees puppy. On your knees an' open that mouth, its gonna get a good stretchin' now.' As he spoke, Rafferty brought the baton down on the brunet's shoulder with enough force to push him to his knees, but without enough power to bruise or break.

Starsky dropped to his knees, watching as Rafferty unzipped himself with one hand, the other wrapped into the brunet's hair. The cop had a glimpse of a bruised and swollen sac before Rafferty's cock was once more thrust at him. This time, he opened his mouth wide. This time there was no fear or defeat in his eyes, just a blazing defiance and knowledge that what he was about to do would probably end in his death or at the very least severe injury, but maybe that was the way he was meant to go – with a fight.

Rafferty grinned down at his captive as he saw Starsky obediently open his mouth, but as he closed his eyes and thrust into the warm cavern, he had no idea of what was to happen.

Starsky felt the cock touch the back of his throat, but this time, instead of trying to back away, or gagging at the rod of flesh, the brunet clamped his mouth closed and bit down full force on the tender phallus. Above him, Rafferty's eyes bulged open, a strangled cry escaping his lips as his whole body trembled and he ripped the centre of his body from Starsky's teeth.

'You fuckin' bastard' the guard cried. 'You're gonna wish you hadn't done that. You're gonna wish you'd never laid eyes on me.' The big man's hand was still entwined in Starsky's hair and now he took a firmer hold and used it as a handle to drag the cop to his feet and out of the cell into the corridor. The brunet could taste blood on his tongue and he spat out red tainted saliva as he was pulled along.

'Gomez, Smith, find the two biggest and bring 'em out to the exercise yard. We're gonna have ourselves a little extra curricular activity' Rafferty snarled as his two friends grinned and jangled the keys on the belts round their waists.

Still pulled along by his hair, and in danger of losing a handful of his curls, Starsky felt as though the top of his head was being ripped off. He was propelled up the corridor towards the small secluded exercise yard and thrown through the door to land, skidding on his knees on the gravel. He felt the thin material of his pants give way and the small stones bite into the flesh of his knees. Thankful for a small reprieve to get back his breath, Starsky stayed where he was on the ground, wiping the blood from his grazed palms down his trouser legs. Rafferty stood by the door, his hands clutched between his legs as for the second time in 24 hours, he felt as though the centre of his body was on fire.

The brunet's break was short lived however as the door opened again and into the yard strode three of the biggest men Starsky had ever seen. He recognised them instantly as the Mandalay Mates, a drug cartel that he and Hutch had helped to put away 6 months ago. The three men, all brothers had vowed to get their revenge on both cops one way or the other, and now it looked as though at least half their wish was about to come true.

Starsky pushed himself to his feet, backing up slowly as he watched the grins appear on Robbie, Donny and Hank Marvello's faces. They spread out, circling the brunet while he tried to keep the wall to his back. Three against one was hardly fair odds and he was already spacey from the drug and hurt from previous encounters with guards and prisoners alike. But he felt alive. He felt as though this at least was how he should be; angry, ramped, feisty and defiant to the last. In all it was the first time he'd felt like Dave Starsky in over 6 weeks.

With a yell, Hank made a lunge for the brunet, kicking out at Starsky's knee. The brunet ducked sideways, grabbing a hold of the approaching foot and twisting it sideways, Hank was thrown off balance and stumbled, falling to the ground, but the diversion was all Donny and Robbie needed and they attacked together. Donny grabbed Starsky round the body, holding him in a bear hug embrace, while Robbie ploughed his ham-like fists into the brunet's chest and stomach time after time. Starsky had no chance to catch his breath or to ride with the blows. They came in quick succession and he felt bones break under the onslaught. He had no chance to defend himself and nowhere to hide. Twenty foot high walls rose on all four sides of the small compound and by the doorway, Rafferty watched the spectacle, a grin plastered on his face.

After five minutes or so Robbie paused for breath while Starsky hung limp and bleeding in Donny's arms. The brunet's vision was tinted red and he saw the world through a blood haze. The curly haired cop realised this was most probably the end. He needed a miracle to survive this. He needed an avenging angel. He needed Hutch, but that would never happen again. Maybe one of the other guards would see what was going on and stop this. Maybe pigs would fly.

Pigs would fly…..pigs would fly…..pigs would fly. The sentiment went round and round in Starsky's head, his fevered mind latching onto that last sentence and repeating it until the words had no meaning. If he could only hang on. Ride it out until someone….anyone came.

And then he saw it. The flash of a blade, shiny and silver in the afternoon sunshine and suddenly Hank grabbed for it, catching it where Rafferty had throw it down onto the gravel. With a roar of approval, the big drug dealer launched himself at Starsky who felt a searing burning sensation on the side of his neck. He felt blood flow and then he found it increasingly difficult to breath. The brunet staggered and Donny let him slide to the ground where he crumpled into an untidy ball and remained, his eyes open as he watched fascinated as the huge gash on his neck pumped his lifeblood out onto the gravel.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The room was dark, only the dim neon blue light above the bed illuminating the darkness above Hutch's bed as the blond slept the sleep of the dead. In the 12 hours since the doctor had been to visit, he seemed to do nothing but sleep, although he had to admit that in his waking periods he felt warmer, more relaxed and and more comfortable then he had done in months. If only he could get things straight between himself and his brunet partner, the world would look completely rosy.

Semi awake, Hutch let his mind drift back to that fateful day and the events that led up to the shooting, feeling strong enough to allow himself to run over the events for the first time since the incident.

_Hutch picked Starsky up in his battered mud coloured beater of an LTD early that morning. Once again, the brunet was still in bed and once again, Hutch chanced his partner's wrath as he hammered on the door._

_A moment later a sleepy, curly head appeared around the bedroom door and Hutch actually took a step back. Starsky looked grey, ashen in fact, dark smudges ringing his eyes and his cheeks hollow and gaunt. He seemed to have aged ten years over night and Hutch's "partner senses" were suddenly on high alert._

'_Oh my God Gordo, what the hell? Are you ok? Are ya sick?'_

_Starsky leaned heavily against the wall and shook his head. 'Dunno…..m'fine. Well, not fine but. Just tired I guess. Didn't seem to sleep much. What time is it?'_

'_Just gone eight.'_

'_Shit. Gimme ten minutes to shower, I'll be right with ya.'_

'_You said that yesterday, and the day before. What is it partner? D'ya need a new alarm clock or something?'_

_Blazing indigo eyes stared at him and it was obvious Starsky was battling with his temper. 'I said I'm goin' for a shower. What more do ya want?'_

'_Nothin' other than to know what's eatin' ya. You've been worse than a bear with a sore head for days. I'm worried about ya buddy, nothin' more'n that.'_

_The brunet backed down a little. 'I'm fine. Just tired and sick of crank calls in the middle of the night. I'll be better after a shower.'_

_Hutch shook his head. 'You're not fit to be in work buddy. You should probably see the doctor' he raised his hand as Starsky started to complain. 'I know what you think of 'em, but Jeez Starsk, take a look at yourself.'_

'_I said I'm fine' the brunet snapped and headed for the bathroom. Hutch sighed. OK, so more of the same then. He was beginning to loose patience with his partner. He'd put up with some crazy behaviour in the past, but this was so unlike the brunet. A few minutes later, the bathroom door was wrenched open so hard it almost came off the hinges and Starsky stalked back into his bedroom leaving wet footprints in his wake. Muffled curses sounded and finally he emerged minutes later, shouldering into his holster over the top of his favourite navy blue tee shirt._

'_Ready' he grunted and headed for the door as Hutch followed on in his wake, trotting down the steps and getting into the car. As they got in, Hutch cast a sidelong glance at his partner. Starsky still looked weary, the still wet curls doing nothing to make him look any better._

'_So, where to?' the blond asked as he started the engine._

'_The fairground down by the pier' Starsky answered promptly._

'_Huh? Why there?' Hutch was surprised at just how decisively his partner answered._

'_I have a hunch.'_

'_Does that equate to a twinge in your big toe? What kinda hunch? About the children's home?'_

'_Yeah. I just…. I have this really strong feeling that we're gonna find something there. I can't explain it but it's like a compulsion to go down there. What do we have to lose?'_

_The blond shook his head. 'Nothing. Fairground it is' he said, wondering what the hell that venue could have to do with the current case, but relieved that Starsky was finally taking an interest. It was the first time since they'd started to investigate that Starsky had actually made any decisions regarding the murders other than his continual comments that Edgar Fisher was innocent. Hutch turned the car onto the on ramp of the freeway and headed out of town towards the coast road, hitting the sun drenched ribbon of blacktop at about 9:00am._

_As they got towards the boardwalk next to the fairground, Starsky started to get restless, sitting forward in the car and looking around him as though searching for someone or something. _

'_Ya lost something?' Hutch asked mildly._

'_Huh? No, nuthin. Why?'_

'_You look like you're expecting something to jump out an' hit ya. I just wondered' the blond asked, feeling rattled by his partner's odd behaviour. But he'd always trusted Starsky's instincts in the past and those instincts had, on more than one occasion, saved his life and solved cases. Sometimes, the brunet was the world champion of lateral thinking and over the years the flaxen haired cop had learned to go with the flow, irrespective of how lunatic that flow appeared to be. He pulled the car into the parking lot and drove slowly over to the entrance gate to the fairground. It was empty at this time of day of course and had that desolate, deserted air that fairgrounds usually have in the daylight hours. There was still the smell of old popcorn and cotton candy on the breeze and the chains from the merrygoround clanked against the pretty painted horses._

_There was a gate across the entrance, but the padlock hung drunkenly from the chain and as though he knew it would be undone, Starsky pushed the chain link gate open and walked through it. Hutch followed, looking around curiously. As the brunet moved to one side, Hutch walked further on, poking into the popcorn stand and pausing by the glass booth containing the laughing clown._

_There seemed to be nothing in the place that remotely looked like it might have anything to do with the skeletons of five children, the only tenuous link the blond could come up with being that the fairground was on the coast road, but on the opposite side of the city._

_Hutch was about to turn and shout to his partner that he thought this was a wild goose chase when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and faced it straight on. From the corner of the payment booth a little way away, a tall thin man walked out, his eyes fixed on the flaxen haired cop. He started to walk straight towards him and Hutch looked up curiously, appraising the man as he came._

'_Nice to finally meet you face to face Detective Hutchinson' the man said, stopping a short distance from the cop._

'_Sorry, do I know you?'_

'_We haven't been formally introduced, no.'_

'_So….how come you know my name. Have you got information for us?' Hutch asked, stopping in his tracks. Something about the thin man made him wary. He had a hooked beak type nose and his eyes bored into the blond's soul. His eyes were a watery blue and seemed never to blink. They held Hutch's gaze without wavering and made the cop feel uncomfortable and off kilter._

'_Information? Well maybe. Will I give it to you? No, I don't think so. That's not why I'm here.' The voice was calm, cold. It pierced like a dagger into Hutch's consciousness and for a moment, the flaxen haired cop seemed transfixed by the man. Hutch shook himself mentally._

'_Look, turkey. I've got places to be. Either tell me what ya came here to tell me, or beat it. I aint got the time to be waitin' round here' Hutch snapped. He'd taken an instant dislike to the flake and didn't like his attitude._

_The man shook his head slowly. 'Tut! Come, come Detective. I thought you cops were thorough. I thought you wanted to drill your snitches for all their information. Don't you want to…..what's the term? Pump me?'_

_The blond snickered. 'To be honest I wouldn't touch ya with a ten-foot pole. If you've got information, tell me. If you haven't, then don't waste my time huh?'_

'_Your partner was much more forthcoming' the stranger said suddenly._

'_My par….. you've spoken to my partner? When?' Hutch looked around and saw Starsky walking towards him from the back. Unsuspecting, he turned his attention back to the thin man._

'_Oh yes. We've had a few conversations these past nights. He's very….compliant. Aren't you David?'_

_For some reason, Hutch felt the need to keep his eyes on the man. But at the same time, he wanted to reassure himself that Starsky was ok. There was something about the stranger that was beginning to creep him out._

'_Buddy, are you ok?' Hutch threw over his shoulder. For some reason, he never actually thought about drawing his gun. Strange, for a man who had once admitted he never even visited his Mom without taking his weapon, and yet his hand didn't even twitch in the direction of his holster._

'_David is just fine. In fact, David is better than fine. Aren't you David?' the man said a little more loudly. 'David wanted to see the __**merrygoround**__' didn't you?'_

_Hutch's eyebrows came together in a scowl. 'What the hell are you talkin' about? Who are you? What're you…' the blond cop turned and the breath froze in his throat as he saw his partner standing 50 yards away and pointing his Smith and Wesson straight at Hutch's heart._

_His focus now entirely on Starsky, Hutch turned fully to meet his partner's gaze. Even from that distance, he could see that there was a far away look in Starsky's deep blue eyes. It was the sort of look a drunk might get, or a man recovering from an epileptic episode. The look said that Starsky was walking and breathing but his thought processes were somewhere else completely._

_The brunet stood in classic firing posture, feet regulation 12 inches apart, knees bent and weight over the balls of his feet and arms straight out, right hand cupped around the left as the index finger of his left hand rested against the trigger._

_Hutch's heart hammered in his chest, his only thought being for his partner's wellbeing. 'Starsk, what're ya doin' buddy?' he asked quietly, but received no reply. He tried again, a little more sharply._

'_Starsky, put the gun down buddy. It's me, Hutch. Starsk!'_

_Behind him he heard a cold chuckle. 'He doesn't hear you. He's mine.'_

'_Yours? What the….STARSK! Put the gun down buddy. Please, put the fu….noo!'_

_As Hutch tried to throw himself sideways, he heard the rapport of the gun and felt the hot metal tear into his chest almost simultaneously. He dropped like a stone to the ground as a second shot rang out, impacting near to the first slug and he curled into a ball on the ground, the breath knocked from his chest by the twin impacts. Hutch felt as though his chest were on fire. He fought to suck oxygen into his body as he struggled to keep his eyes open and trained on his partner._

_Starsky stood stock still as sirens could be heard in the distance. Who had called the cops, Hutch would never know but as the three players in the game waited, time seemed to slow to a standstill. The thin man walked over to the downed cop and knelt by his side._

'_That'll teach you to meddle with things you don't understand. Let that be your dying thought, Detective' the thin man said coldly. Hutch tried to speak. He tried to call for his partner, but Starsky was still standing where he'd been when he shot Hutch the gun hanging limply in his hands. A black and white could be heard coming onto the parking lot and the man stood, walking swiftly over to the brunet. He placed a hand on his shoulder and hissed 'Release' into Starsky's ear before bending the cop's arm up his back as though apprehending him. As the uniformed officers ran into the fairground, the man became excited, and thrust the dazed brunet at the cop._

'_I saw the whole thing officer. He shot that man over there. He just shot him! I think he's dead, or dying. He needs an ambulance.'_

_The cop looked at the man being held and recognised him instantly as a fellow cop. Starsky was swaying, shaking his head from side to side as though he'd been asleep and was trying to wake up and as he heard his captor mention ambulance, he seemed to come to his senses. 'What? Ambulance? Why…?' Shrugging himself away from the thin man's grasp, the brunet walked over as if in a daze to the blond on the ground. Hutch's eyes were closed and his breathing was loud and irregular as he struggled to heave lungfulls of oxygen into his body. Starsky looked down at his partner and knelt by his side. His hand made to grasp for the brunet's, but Starsky couldn't bring himself to touch his partner, his head fuzzy, but the gun still hot in his hands. He dropped it, vague memories of shooting at someone echoing around the windmills of his mind, and slowly reality hit._

'_Hutch! Oh my God. Did I?…. Hutch?…..Fuck no!' _

_The brunet stood up, his face creased with sorrow and more remorse than he thought he could bear and fumbled in his back pocket, pulling his own cuffs out. Without another word, he snapped them on his own wrists and without a backwards glance walked slowly past the stunned cops to go an sit in the back of the black and white._

'Oh Starsk, what the hell is goin' on buddy? Why? What were ya doin'? Who was that guy? Was it? Oh my god! Was it….?' The door to his hospital room flying open interrupted Hutch's thoughts. Traff appeared, an intense look on his face. The blond jumped and looked up.

'Traff? It's the middle of the night. What're ya…'

'It's Curly. Hutch it's Curly. I had a call from Warden Mallozzi. Something's happened to him and he's…he's hurt. He's hurt bad. They don't know if he's gonna make it. They're bringing him here right now.'

**_Um - due to popular demand - another chapter tonight - will Starsky make it?_**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 - as promised**

'He's hurt? Shit, here, help me up' Hutch snapped, pulling the sheets back to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Traff crossed the room in two strides, pushing the blond back onto the bed.

'I said they're bringing him here. In an ambulance. Just hold on there Cochise, it won't do any good to get yourself all bent over and undo all the hard work you've put into getting right. There's a nurse on her way with a wheelchair, then we can get down to the ER and meet the ambulance.'

'He must be bad if they're sending him here rather than treating him the prison. How do you know about him? Who told you?'

'The Warden. That guy Mallozzi rang me about a half an hour ago. The details are a little sketchy but apparently he was found in the exercise yard collapsed on the ground. There were three other prisoners who seemed to have attacked him, they um…they'd gotten a knife from somewhere…. and there was a guard there. He's been detained pending questioning' Traff looked uncomfortable.

'A guard?'

'I'm sorry Chief. From the description it sounds like the turkey I had an encounter with the other night. I feel like shit Hutch! This is my fault. If I hadn't followed the guy and….'

'If you hadn't had the "conversation" with him, Starsky would still be someone's little pet right now. You weren't to know Traff. Don't beat yourself up about it. You did it to try to protect him.'

'I know, but still…. I had no idea that anyone would do somethin' like this. He sounds… they said he was bad.'

At that moment, the door to the room was pushed open and a nurse appeared pushing an empty wheelchair. She drew it up to the side of the bed, unhooked the drip bag from the stand and waited while Hutch got himself out of bed and sank wearily into the chair. All the benefits of his stay in hospital seemed to have flowed away from him, and his optimism and warm fuzziness of a while ago had been replaced once again by anger and now fear for his partner's life. The nurse threaded the drip bag through the arm of Hutch's robe, his arm following suit and carefully she arranged the robe around his shoulders. Traff nodded to the pretty young woman.

'I can take it from here' the soldier grunted and took a hold of the handles off the chair. He turned the chair and headed for the door, out into the corridor and down in the elevator to the ground floor. In contrast to the quiet efficiency of the upper levels, the Emergency room of Bay City's Memorial hospital was a study in perpetual motion. Split into three distinct areas, there was the minor injuries unit dealing with everything from nose bleeds and splinters to those waiting for xrays on various portions of their anatomy.

The second area was for those who were more poorly and was full of curtained cubicles and larger glass partitioned rooms. This area too was a hive of activity as doctors and nurses pushed into cubicles, carried out their procedures and left. The patient turnover here was high, with those who'd received treatment being discharged either home, or to the various wards.

The third area was also an area of intense activity, but here, in the resuscitation rooms, the air was one of well controlled panic, the adrenaline almost palpable in the air. Here, larger bays held beds draped in white surrounded by the various machinery that may be required to save a patient's life. The more senior staff here had a cool, calm exterior that exuded confidence in themselves and the other team members. Whereas outside, the volume of noise was high, in here, there were words said in more hushed tones, the staff knowing their role and communicating more with a twitch of an eyebrow or flick of a hand rather than a shouted command.

It was to this area that the brunet was wheeled just as Traff pushed Hutch's chair through the door. The soldier had to place a restraining hand on the blond's shoulder to stop Hutch from leaping from his chair to go to his partner's side. Hutch wanted to be by Starsky. He needed to let his partner know that he was there and he was going to stay by his side once again. He wanted the brunet to know that nothing had changed between them and he didn't blame his partner for what had happened to him. Traff pulled the chair to one corner of the room and waited quietly as both men watched the doctors and nurses fighting to stabilize the brunet's life signs.

The glimpses they had of Starsky's body showed that his dark blue prison fatigues were wet and shiny and darkly stained with blood. The brunet's left arm hung limply down from the side of the gurney and as the medics parted for a moment, they could see blood seeping from a deep and bloody wound on the brunet's neck. Starsky's eyes were closed, his skin gray and as the doctors closed ranks around the gurney again, Hutch put his head in his hands and hitched a sob.

'Why? What is it with these fuckin' guys? Why him? He should never have been on that wing anyway. He's not even convicted….he aint gonna be convicted. He didn't do any of this on purpose. Someone, somewhere made this happen. I need to get to him. I need to let him know I'm here. I need to let him know he aint on his own any more. I need to..'

At that moment, there was a clanging of alarms and the people round the table were galvanised into even more action as they reacted to the fact that Starsky's heart had stopped. But for Hutch, the world stood still. No one moved for a hundred years as Hutch's heart rate hiked up a level and the beating hammered at his chest wall. No one moved. No one seemed to speak. Minutes flowed into hours which flowed into days as the brunet's life hung in the balance. Hutch strove to get to his partner, to tell him that nothing had changed, that he was still there for him. That it was still the same as always and that he still loved the man like a brother.

And then the bubble broke and the blond felt all hell broke loose. Traff and Hutch heard commands of Adrenaline, oxygen and central lines and without knowing it, Hutch had opened his mouth and yelled STARSKYYYYY at the top of his voice, struggling to get out of his chair.

The alarm stopped. The silence in the room deafening and Hutch know that once again, his partner had somehow obeyed his commands. No way would the brunet do anything against Hutch's will, including dying without permission, and at that moment, Hutch knew with certainty that his bond with Starsky was as strong as ever. Whatever fate could throw at them, whatever flake got in their way, they were still brothers at heart.

For a brief moment there was silence around the bed before those blessed words…."we have sinus rhythm" and those within earshot relaxed. The medics went back to their work, stemming the flow of blood, assessing damage, inserting tubes and calling for further investigations. For an hour, the team worked over the brunet's body to stabilize it and by the end of that time, Starsky's clothes had been cut away and the floor around the gurney was littered with blood soaked gauze pads and plastic wrappers from various dressings.

During that time, Traff and Hutch sat quietly back, transfixed by what was happening to their friend. They hardly dared breathe in case they upset the equilibrium in the room and caused another panic, but finally the air of intensity seemed to dissipate slightly and one or two of the staff drifted away until eventually there was one doctor and two nurses left behind, cleaning up and preparing for the brunet to be moved. With a sigh, and slinging his stethoscope around his neck, the young doctor turned and saw the two spectators as though for the first time. He smiled at them and walked over just as two prison guards walked into the ER. The medic paused and glared at the uniformed officers.

'You two can wait outside. He isn't in a position to do anything for himself at the moment, he's hardly gonna get up and run away' he growled at them.

'Orders is orders' one of them grunted as the young doctor pulled himself up to his full height.

'You might get away with that in jail, but out here, it doesn't cut it. This is my hospital and my rules, and while you're in my ER, what I say goes. You're more than welcome to wait outside that door, there's only one way in or out of this room. But as for standing watch over him by the bed, you'll be in the way, forget it. Do I make myself clear?'

The two men grumbled under their breath, but didn't argue and as they turned to depart, the doctor turned his attention back to the two men in the corner.

'Are you friends of his?' he asked.

'Yeah, he's my partner. We're cops. How is he? Is he gonna make it?' Hutch asked quickly.

The doctor didn't query the fact that one of the cops was in a prisoner's outfit, but he hunkered down by the side of the wheelchair, his face serious in the extreme.

'I'm afraid your partner has taken quite some beating, Mr….?'

'Hutchinson….Hutch. Is he gonna be ok?'

'He's lost a lot of blood, more than we would have liked and we'll be replacing that. He has a deep wound on his neck and from what I can see of the rest of him, he has fractured ribs, a punctured lung and extensive bruising, but it's the head injuries we're more concerned about. There is some swelling of his brain, and we will be keeping him unconscious after the surgery, just to help his body recover. We um…. We aren't sure how he's going to be once he comes around.'

'You mean he might have…' Hutch could hardly bring himself to utter the words.

'There may be some brain damage, yes. At the very least, we aren't sure whether he'll be able to hear again. He took several hard kicks to the side of his head and he has extensive bruising there.'

'Is he awake now?' Hutch asked softly.

'His level of consciousness is variable at the moment. We need to get him up to the OR as soon as we can.'

'Can I see him….just for a moment? Please Doc. Its important' the blond asked.

'I should really say no, but I think it may do him good to know he has friends here. No more than a minute. We need to act fast.'

Traff wheeled the chair over to the side of the gurney and both men gasped at the damage that had been done to their friend. The whole right hand side of Starsky's face was blackened by one massive bruise, his eye swollen closed and an ominous crusting of blood coming from his right ear. His nose too had been bleeding and there were cuts and grazes across his cheeks and forehead. A large white dressing covered the entire right hand side of his neck and tubes had been inserted in both arms. An oxygen mask fitted over the brunet's mouth and nose and the occasional misting of its interior was the only sign that Starsky was breathing.

Lower down, bruising and abrasions marred his chest and abdomen and there was a large swelling over the right and centre of the usually washboard flat stomach. The rest of the brunet's body was covered in a single sheet and hid the further damage although there were spots of blood on the covering.

Hutch reached out and took a hold of Starsky's left hand, holding it tight and squeezing it gently as though to reassure himself that his partner was still there with him. It was the first contact he'd had with his partner in a month and he savoured it. Stiffly, Hutch got up from the chair and leaned over the table.

'Starsk?' he whispered, his other hand, decorated with its own needle carding gently through blood matted curls. There was a flicker of eyelids at the word and the blond tried harder.

'Starsky, open your eyes for me buddy. Starsk?'

Slowly one indigo eye cracked open and regarded the blond warily. Fear resided in that one eye, but with it relief that Hutch was once again by his side. Slowly Starsky tried to bring his hand up, pawing at his ear, as though trying to clear it. It was obvious that the brunet couldn't hear a word, but was comforted by the presence anyway.

Despite the obvious pain, Starsky's lips worked at forming words and as Hutch leaned closer he heard a pained whisper, the first words he'd had with his partner in such a long time.

Ut….sssh…..don't…..leave me.'


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 – 2 days later**

During the next two days, the doctors kept Starsky unconscious in a medically induced coma. They said it was so that his body would have time to recover and that he'd suffered a great deal of trauma. They also said that because of the amount of injury to his head, the brunet's brain would likely swell, causing complications. It was best, the doctor explained, for the curly haired man to remain deeply asleep so that the miracle of regeneration could start to heal him both bodily and mentally.

It was a tough time for both Hutch and for Traff. They remained at Starsky's bedside almost constantly and finally, after Hutch had fallen asleep on the chair, fallen off and gashed his head, the nursing staff took pity on both men and had a rollaway cot brought into the room. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world but for the still healing blond, the rock hard mattress felt wonderful and for Traff, it gave some respite from the worry of looking out for not one friend but two.

Things did not stop still during those two days however. The prison guards were their constant companions and although the doctors had told the uniformed men that they would be in the way if they stayed in the room with their prisoner, it didn't stop them quoting regulations and cuffing Starsky's inert right wrist to the side of the bed. That done they happily waited outside the room as the doctors and nurses came and went to look in on their patient. As the silver manacle had been clicked into place, Hutch had gone ballistic.

'Aww c'mon! He's in a coma for Christ's sake! Why the hell do you need to do that? He's a human being not some kinda dog to keep chained up!' He had pushed the guard out of the way, so that he could get closer to the brunet.

'He's accused of tryin' to murder you' the nameless guard snapped. 'Jeez, d'ya have a death wish man, or are you one of those weird guys who goes around forgiving everyone?'

Hutch had made a grab for the collar of the man's uniform and would have hit the guard had Traff's strong fist stopped him.

'He's doin' his job Chief. We can't do nothin' right now, but we will, we will. Let it go' the soldier had told him softly.

Hutch had sighed and reluctantly let go of the handful of material he'd held in his hands. 'He's a better man than any of ya' he'd said quietly. 'He'd make two of you. He didn't try to kill me. Starsk would never do that an' the next guy who tells me that he did will be eatin' fist for breakfast, got that?'

The guard had nodded unfazed by the outburst. He dealt with excitable prisoners on a daily basis and so this blond cop with his arm in a sling and a drip in the back of his hand was nothing for him to worry about. Instead, he'd nodded laconically and had gone to take up position outside the room while Hutch had gently placed his partner's manacled right hand on a pillow and had smoothed back chocolate coloured curls, murmuring softly. Traff, however had had a more direct way of dealing with things and had gone to make a couple of phone calls. Two hours later, Hutch and Traff had met in the corridor outside Starsky's room with Warden Alfred Mallozzi and Captain Dobey. They found a small room and sat down around a table. Mallozi had looked tired, drawn and uneasy and had been the first to speak.

'I always thought I ran a tight ship. I never suspected for one minute that anything like this could happen when it involved one of my guards. Prisoners yes, we deal with the worst society has to offer as a rule, but fuck, the guards are supposed to be there to keep the peace, not incite riot.'

'It was the same guard I saw the previous night, then?' Traff had asked, also uneasy and still blaming himself for what had happened.

'Rafferty, yes. I've always know he was a tough nut, but sometimes that's what we need in there. It aint no bed of roses inside and on occasions I've had to reprimand him for being a little over zealous, but nothing like this.'

Dobey had placed his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. 'It's tough to manage men who need to be tough, I know. Tempers fray and temperatures run high, but this was different. What's happened to him?'

'I've suspended Rafferty pending a full enquiry, but I don't expect that he'll be coming back to work. If he does, I'll be breathing down his neck ever step of the way. It will be up to Starsky whether he presses charges if he wakes up.'

'_When_ he wakes up' Hutch corrected. 'He's gonna wake up. He's gonna be ok, or I'll personally go and arrest this Rafferty guy for assault, rape and murder and every other felony I can think of.'

Mallozzi had nodded seriously. 'I can only apologise, and I know that'll never be enough. What else can I do?'

'You can call those two goons in the corridor off' Traff had pointed out. 'They have my buddy chained to the bed like a …a common criminal. Tell 'em to leave off him huh?'

Mallozzi had looked even more uncomfortable. 'I'm sorry Colonel Trafford, I would if I could, but they are just following orders. Mr Starsky is still a prisoner. He refused to apply for bail and so they must take those standard precautions.'

'And if he was on bail?' Traff had pushed.

'Then that would be a different matter. Bail means he's made a promise to the Courts that he'll stay out of trouble until his trial or sentence. As such, if he was on bail he'd be a free man. But as he's remanded in custody…'

The soldier stood up. 'You can talk rules and regulations till you're blue in the face. Believe me, I'm military, I know what rules are, but there's always ways around 'em. I can't just sit here and do nothing. I'm going to um…..push a few buttons. I'll be back.'

With that, the meeting had broken up and as Hutch plodded back to his partner's room, Traff stalked off down the corridor on his own mission.

Traff made his way outside and to his waiting car, determined that he was going to make things easier for his old army buddy even if Starsky hadn't wanted to, to begin with. He gunned the engine of the sports car and turned it back towards town, calling at Hutch's place first to change back into his army dress uniform before continuing his journey and parking outside the smart office complex off Roosevelt Avenue. Getting out, he wedged his cap on his curly head, pulled his jacket straight and marched purposefully into the reception, asking to see Liz Abraham, Starsky's lawyer.

Without looking up, the bored looking receptionist replied that Miss Abraham had no appointments till the end of the week and to try calling ahead by phone next time. Traff tapped on the counter and coughed. The girl looked up, straight into twinkling emerald eyes staring at her from beneath a peaked cap. Traff gave her his best winning smile and the poor girl melted.

'I know she's gonna be real busy and I know you must be run off your feet, but um, could you see if she's engaged in a meeting at this minute. I can guarantee she'll want to see me and um…. It'll save you time later on honey. Maybe we can um….' The soldier winked and the girl dimpled a smile at him and punched in numbers on a telephone, stammering into the mouthpiece.

'Who shall I say is calling?' she asked huskily.

'Lieutenant Colonel Trafford' Traff said, using his full title for once. He waited patiently and grinned to himself when the girl got up from behind her desk, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to lead that handsome soldier to the elevators.

'Third floor, office 331' she said breathlessly, watching appreciatively as the hunk walked into the elevator car.

Traff sighed as the door closed. He wasn't vain, but he knew most women found him better than average looking, although he rarely played on that – unless he really needed to get something he wanted. And right now, he felt he might have to use his masculine wiles again, when he saw Starsky's lawyer.

Traff knocked on 331 and waited for the curt "come in" from the office. He walked in just as Liz was putting away a book on the top shelf of the bookcase behind her and she was just about to make some comment when she felt a body pressed against hers and an arm take the heavy legal book and reach up to place it safely on the shelf. The woman turned round quickly, bumping her nose on Traff's jacket and blushed furiously.

'Colonel Trafford! I was going to ring up the hospital this afternoon. I wanted to arrange another legal visit with Dave and they said he'd been in some sort of accident. How is he? Is he ok?'

Traff shook his head. 'No, Not really.' He disengaged himself from the girl and together they sat at the side of the office, Liz pulling her short skirt down self consciously towards her knees.

'It wasn't an accident then?'

The soldier shook his head. 'You don't look surprised.'

'Hey, I know Dave Starsky, what more can I say? He was always getting himself into scrapes. But when I last saw him he didn't seem to have an ounce of fight left in him. What's he done to get himself into trouble this time? Opened his mouth again when he should have kept quiet?'

'Well, it seems that one of the guards was um…. Well you know what goes on in jails' Traff said seriously.

Liz paled, her snappish exterior crumbling at the news. 'Oh my god! You mean he was…..poor Dave. How's he taken it? Is he…? The bastards!'

'I don't know how he's taken it, but that's not the half of it. Some of the goons got at him inside and beat him to a pulp, knifed him in the neck. He's in a coma. That's why I wanted to come to see you.'

'Well I can certainly help you to press charges but…'

'No, that's not why I'm here. He didn't apply for bail, so they have him cuffed to the bed, even though he's unconscious. Hutch is beside himself and truth to tell, I aint so happy about it myself. Which is why I came to you.' Traff hitched himself a little closer to the woman, leaning into her body. She seemed distracted but carried on regardless.

'There's nothing I can do. He's stubborn. I tried to reason with him but he was adamant that he didn't want to apply for bail, so he's still a prisoner on remand. As such, they have to right to guard him.'

'But I thought maybe you could make some sort of application while he's unconscious.' The soldier's fingers strayed so that his hand rested on one stocking clad knee. Liz shivered.

'I…I don't know. It's highly irregular. It's going against his wishes and he is my client. I don't think it's appropriate to um…to…' She found herself staring into emerald eyes set in a face that reminded her so much of her ex boyfriend and she hitched a breath. 'He's so good at getting himself into trouble' she said, a little less forcefully as Traff leaned closer.

The soldier took a hold of her hand, playing with her fingers and running his finger up the inside of her arm to her elbow through the thin blouse. Liz shivered, Traff's eyes never leaving hers as he reached up snaking his hand around the back of her neck. Gently he pulled her to him and very gently he kissed her lips. There was a moment's hesitation before the tension in the woman's body eased and she melted into him, shivery and breathless as a schoolgirl.

'He's all alone in that hospital room, cuffed to the bed even though he's hurt so badly. Would you want that to happen to Dave?' Traff said softly into her ear.

'This is just highly irregular. Don't think you can get around me like this' Liz made a last ditch attempt to stop herself succumbing to Traff's advances as he started to kiss her again. Deftly and gently he pulled her towards him and she fell onto her knees on the floor between his legs with a sigh. The soldier hugged her to him and she put her arms around his neck, leaning into him.

'We can't. Not here. Not now. You can't get round me so easily' she whispered hungrily into the man's neck, feeling the heat from his body wrap itself around ehr.

'Why not? It's late they'll all have gone home soon.' He started to unbutton her blouse and she pushed herself away from him and finished for him. Pulling it off she turned her attention to Traff, deftly untying his tie and then unbuttoning his shirt, kissing at his chest as he nuzzled at her neck.

'You don't have to do this' she murmured as Traff fell to the floor besides her, gently brushing her hair away from her face and smiling down at her.

'I know, but I wouldn't want you to give in too quickly. You have your reputation to consider…..unless….. don't you think it's more fun this way?' he asked her.

'Dunno. As I lawyer, I should test out the evidence. Ask me again in an hour!' Liz sank back until she looked up at the handsome soldier. Traff ran his fingers down her neck between her breasts as her breath quickened. Gently he bent down and kissed at her nipple, feeling it rise hard and expectant beneath his lips. She shivered and moaned softly, her own hands working against the flat plains of his muscular back. Liz could feel the muscles bunching and moving beneath the taut, tanned skin as Traff moved so that he was knelt between her legs.

Again he bent over the woman, his tongue flicking deftly down her belly as she arched her back up to meet his embrace. With her left hand, Liz unbuckled Traff's regulation black belt, unbuttoning his waistband and lowering the zip so that his cock sprung up to meet her grasp, jutting out proudly between them. For a moment she hitched a breath as she felt his size. She'd had big men before, but nothing like this and her eyes widened as she caught sight of the rod of flesh. Oh my God, would that ever fit?

Traff saw her eyes widen and snickered to himself. He was used to the reaction and was always a considerate lover. He kissed the woman again, soothing away her fears as she surrendered to his mouth and hands. As she gently caressed him, he lowered his body to hers and she felt him pushing at her entrance, insistently but gently as she allowed him access.

'Are you ready honey?' he whispered huskily, positioning himself to get maximum control.

'Oh yeah!' Liz murmured. 'Right now.' The woman gave a small cry as Traff pushed against her, the invader taking her breath away for a moment. Traff paused, allowing her time to become accustomed to his bulk before she relaxed and he pushed all the way inside her, coming to rest just long enough for her to catch her breath.

Liz opened her eyes and stared into his emerald greens and at the calm acceptance, Traff started to move inside her, gauging his rhythm to perfection as he brought her to a shattering climax, his own body only seconds behind her.

As the handsome soldier came to a rest, gasping by her side, Liz smiled up at him lazily and closed her eyes. 'Now that, colonel, is what I call making a statement!'


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The arrival of the evening shift at the hospital also marked the arrival of formal visiting time and although not many people knew that Starsky had been transferred from Bay City Penitentiary to the hospital, Hutch was surprised to see a young woman hovering outside the brunet's room. He got up stiffly from his perch on the chair by Starsky's bed and walked to the doorway.

'Can I help?' has asked tiredly.

Beth Knott appraised the blond quickly. This was surely Detective Hutchinson, the man who David Starsky was supposed to have gunned down in cold blood. She took in the left arm still held in a sling, the pale, drained look on the man's face and the tight lines around Hutch's mouth showing the anxiety he still bore for his partner despite all that had gone on.

'I was here to see David' she began, looking around the blond to the figure on the bed. 'I should introduce myself. I'm Beth. Beth Knott. I'm the psychiatrist at the jail and I've been working with David to try to get to the bottom of what's been going on. Has he mentioned me at all?'

Hutch shook his head. 'He didn't even want to see me when I visited, and since he's been in here, he's been in a coma. Why are you here now?' He asked it sharply, but not unkindly and the woman ignored the bluntness in his voice.

'I only just heard what happened and I... Well I know I'm supposed to have some professional detachment, but I wanted to see how he was. His case has my interest, and he's... He's not my usual type of patient' she ended, thinking about the piercing deep blue eyes and the slightly crooked shy smile she'd seen only a few days ago.

Hutch nodded. 'Yeah, he has a habit of getting under people's skin. Come in. He's still asleep, but I'm sure he'll know you're here.' Hutch stood back to let Beth into the room and she walked slowly to the bed, gasping as she saw the terrible damage that had been done to the once handsome brunet. She put her hand up to her mouth and gasped. 'Oh my God! Did that all happen inside? Has anyone been dealt with? I mean... Is he going to be ok?'

'Yes' Hutch responded a little too loudly. He chuckled grimly at his own response. 'He has to be. The Docs say he has some trauma to his head. He's had his ruptured spleen removed and the wound on his neck has been sutured. He lost a helluva lot of blood, but they think there could be um...' the blond could hardly bring himself to say the words. He took a deep breath and turned away so that Starsky would have no chance of overhearing. It was irrational, he knew, but it made him feel better. 'They think there's a chance of brain damage. They know he's deaf at least in one ear at the moment and they don't know if that will be permanent or not.'

'Oh God! I had no idea he was so bad' Beth said as she looked back at the sleeping man. Her eyes fell on the handcuff anchoring the right wrist to the bed and she looked away in disgust.

'He'll be fine. He has to be fine. I won't let him be anything else.' Hutch looked up sharply as he said it expecting the usual "But he's the man that shot you" routine. He was surprised when it didn't come and looked curiously at the woman. 'Everyone else thinks I'm crazy coz I don't hate him for what he did. But you don't seem surprised.'

Beth shook her head. 'I'm not. The way he spoke about you, it was obvious there was a very strong bond there, and now I've met you, I can see that it's mutual.'

'Uh huh. That's what comes of my relying on him to watch my back each an' every day. We're close... more'n close and that's why I can't imagine that he'd do what he did out of malice. There was something else at work here.'

'Yes there was' Beth said surprisingly. 'I had a feeling when I was with him that there was something else and I tried to hypnotise him. He went under almost too easily, but them I had difficulty getting him out of the trance, so I started to do some digging and I remembered a book I had. The author is an expert on hypnosis and so I contacted the publisher who gave me his name. I spoke to him for quite some time and he seemed really interested in the case and said he'd help me as much as he could. I brought the book and...'

Beth was interrupted as the doctor came into the room and smiled at the two visitors as he crossed to the bed. Hutch looked at him expectantly as the medic did some preliminary checks and examined the chart hanging at the bottom of the bed. For the minute, Beth was forgotten as the Doctor looked up and nodded at Hutch.

'How's he been? Have you seen any change?'

'No, none. I was getting a little worried. Is he ok?'

The medic nodded. 'He's doing well. I think the time has come to stop the medication keeping him asleep and let him wake up on his own.'

Beth smiled at Hutch. I think you need to be with him. Let me go now and we'll speak later. I'll leave the book on the table and maybe you can look at it later when you're waiting for him huh?'

Hutch smiled at her, and Beth suddenly realised that the blond's eyes were the exact colour of the sky on a summer's day. What was it with these guys and their eyes? Both of them so attractive. One cool and crystalline blue like a mountain lake, the other deep and intense and full of passion and just a hint of danger. With difficulty, she pulled herself together and stood on tiptoe to kiss the flaxen haired cop lightly on his cheek. 'You know where I am when you need me' she said and left the room leaving the doctor and Hutch by Starsky's bedside.

Deftly the doctor injected a white substance into the port in the drip feed leading to Starsky's left arm. It flowed into the vein a little way from the needle delivering the final unit of blood that they'd given the brunet over the two days since he'd been admitted. Hutch had watched each ruby droplet fall through the chamber to flow into his partner's body and had willed each tiny morsel of lifeblood to make his buddy well again. The doctor adjusted the flow of the drip feed, made one or two more checks and then stood back.

'So? What now?' Hutch asked.

'Now we wait. He'll start to wake up in his own time. It could be within the hour, it could take him another day.'

The blond snorted. 'You've never seen him drive. He never does anything slowly.'

'Well in that case, you won't have too long to wait. Stay close by and ring me if you need me' the medic smiled again and left the room.

Hutch remained in the quiet of the room looking down at the battered and bruised body on the bed. Despite the fact that the injection had only just been delivered, he watched intently for any small signs of life, snickering to himself at his eagerness at seeing those indigo blue eyes once more. It seemed so long since he'd been alone with his partner and had been able to converse with him without either the brunet bolting for the door or guards being stationed outside that Hutch found himself longing to hear the sound of that familiar northern drawl again. How many times in the past had he wished Starsky would shut up? So many times when the brunet had been prattling on about pet stones or astrology or voodoo, or anything that was so way off track from their current case had he wished for peace and quiet? How many times had he snapped at his partner to shut up? And now, all he wanted was for his partner to open his eyes and murmur his name.

With a sigh he sat down by the side of the bed and took a hold of the brunet's left hand. 'What are we don' here Starsk? What's it all about huh? And why us? Why you? Jeez what am I doin' talkin' to myself? Probably coz I need to hear your voice buddy. You left me for too long this time. Much too long. Can ya give me a sign here? Just a little sign. Can you even hear me? Do you know I'm here?' the blond watched intently, waiting for some reaction, but none came and instead, hutch went back to his quiet thoughts, his thumb making small circles on the back of the brunet's hand as he waited.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity. The silence in the room was deafening although beyond the closed door, Hutch could hear the sounds of bed pans clanking, drip stands being rolled across the tiled floor and visitors voices murmuring and sometimes bursting into laughter. The sounds of giggling seemed incongruous inside the room. It seemed unbelievable that the whole world didn't know of his worry over his partner. Didn't they understand how anxious he was? Didn't they know that he was waiting with baited breath to see whether his buddy would still be firing on all thrusters when he eventually woke up? Balling his hands into fists he tried to calm himself and went back to his thoughts as very slowly the fingers on the clock crawled around their orbit.

7:30... 8:00...8:15 and then... Was that his imagination? Did he just feel a twitch of weak fingers against his hand? Hutch was on his feet in a moment, staring earnestly at his buddy's face and was rewarded with the briefest twitch of translucent eyelids.

'Starsky? Starsk, can ya hear me buddy? Are ya gonna wake up for me?' Hutch urged his partner to make more effort and was rewarded by a rasping groan. He tried again.

'Starsk, c'mon buddy. I'm right here. You're safe. I'm not goin' anywhere. I just need to see those beautiful blues again. Open your eyes for me huh?'

For the next few minutes, it was apparent that the brunet was indeed resurfacing from his long sleep. Several times there was a flash of indigo blue as Starsky's eyes flashed open and then drifted closed and more raw groans were wrung from his dry throat but gradually, as the time passed, the curly haired cop became more animated.

Within half an hour, deep blue eyes opened, and remained open although unfocused and weakly the brunet turned his head on the pillow. His left hand was still locked in Hutch's grasp and so he tried to move his right to raise it to his head. Finding it imprisoned by the manacle still in place, Starsky gave a subdued whimper and his body stiffened. Immediately, Hutch reached up and carded his fingers through chocolate coloured curls.

'Easy there partner, easy. Hey Starsk. Welcome back huh?'

For a moment, Hutch's heart stood still. There was no recognition in those eyes that he knew so well and the Doctor's words came back to haunt him. _'There may be some brain damage...he may be deaf...'_

'Starsk, can you hear me ok?' It's me, it's Hutch.'

'Hu..sssch...hurts...' the voice was weak, rasping and almost unrecognisible as that belonging to his partner, but Hutch was delighted. Starsky had responded to him and it did appear he could hear him.

'I know it does buddy, I know. We can do something about that. Jeez Starsk, it's so good to have you back.'

Starsky's eyebrows drew together in a frown of concentration. 'Knew... you'd come.'

'Uh huh. Wild horses wouldn't keep me away, you know that buddy. Um...can you hear me? Can you hear ok?'

The brunet closed his eyes. 'Ffffuzzzzy. Hu...tch...where?'

'You're in the hospital. You were hurt. Don't try to remember right now. You just...'

But Starsky was already pulling his hand weakly away from the blond's grip. 'No...I...Hutsssh nooooo.' the curly head tossed fitfully on the pillow and the brunet started to get agitated as Hutch leaned over him. Gently, the flaxen haired man took a hold of his friend's bruised, swollen face between his hands and forced Starsky to look at him.

When Hutch spoke, it was slowly and clearly so that the brunet would be left in no doubt as to his meaning. 'Don't do this to me Starsk. Don't do it to us. I can't handle you pulling away like this. I need you as much as I think you need me.'

'Nooo...shot ya...' Starsky managed to rasp, his eyes more expressive than any words could ever be. Those eyes held hurt and anger and such pain that it hurt almost to look at them.

'God Starsk! You need to listen to me, and listen good. Don't pull away from me. Don't shut me out. I don't care how long I have to wait you're not gonna get rid of me coz we need to talk, we need to discuss this and you're a captive audience. You aint going nowhere and neither am I. Some time soon, you're gonna tell me what happened. I don't blame you and I aint ever gonna leave, but you're gonna have to let me in buddy...please?'

Starsky looked up at the earnest face above him. He felt so weak, but at the same time he felt so safe now that Hutch was there once more watching his back. He'd never remembered feeling lonelier than when the blond wasn't with him and now, at least for a little while, he allowed himself to relax into the comforting blond presence. He struggled to find the energy to say what he had to but it was important to both of them that he voiced his feelings now.

'I don't know... why Hutch, I just... it happened. Didn't want to...God...never want to hurt ya. Something made me and I shot ya... I deserve... this. I deserve... fuckin' die for... what… did to you.' the struggle to get out the words he'd been burning to say to his partner cost Starsky dearly and no sooner had he got the words out of his mouth than his eyes slid closed and his body told him that this was enough exertion.

Hutch watched his partner drift back into sleep as he closed his own eyes, getting his feelings under control. Starsky thought he should die because of what he'd been forced to do! Gently he leaned close to his friend's ear. 'I don't blame ya Starsk, please, don't blame yourself huh?'

Slowly he let go of the limp left hand and straightened wearily. His eyes fell on the book that Beth had left for him and he padded over to the small drawers and picked it up. His eyebrows shot up as he saw the author's name on the spine and Hutch turned it over in his hands and gasped as the face on the dust cover smiled out at him. Edgar Fisher! And the face belonged to the man who they'd both met at the fairground!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Hutch stared at the dust cover of the book for long moments a tide of rage and fear welling up inside his chest. He'd been so sick in the hospital from the shooting, and then so worried in the last week for his partner that the thought of there being another perpetrator to the crime had been the furthest thing from his mind. He'd been shocked, yes, that Starsky had taken the gun and shot him, but he'd never connected the man they'd met at the fairground with being anything to do with the crime, and neither had he put two and two together and thought that the stranger had in fact been Edgar Fisher. They'd not seen the man they'd interviewed all the ex residents of the children's home about. He'd been off the scene for so long that that was going to be their next step, although with the turn of events it had never come.

Weakly, Hutch collapsed down onto the chair, rested his head back against the back rest and closed his eyes. Now that he thought about it, things started to add up, especially after the conversation he'd just had with the psychiatrist. Starsky had been so tired during the investigation and had complained about late night telephone calls although he'd never actually been able to tell Hutch who had called him. He'd acted strangely each time they'd questioned anyone regarding Fisher and had behaved oddly whenever Hutch had said anything negative about the teacher. Neither had he been willing or able to discuss the content of those conversations on the telephone. Had that been the way that Fisher had got to Starsky? Was that even really possible? The blond looked over to his sleeping partner and nodded. Nothing else that he could think of would cause the brunet to act so out of character. Nothing else would make the curly haired cop turn on the man he'd vowed to spend his working life protecting.

Starsky was still sleeping, obviously exhausted by the short conversation they'd had, but at least he had spoken to Hutch. For the first time in a month, they'd managed to have a conversation and that was a beginning. Whatever Starsky thought, however bad the brunet felt, Hutch had managed to assure the smaller man that he didn't blame him and that he was still there for him, no matter what.

Weariness also swept over Hutch like a black tide. He'd waited so long for his partner to wake up, first to make sure that there was no lasting brain damage, which appeared to be the case. Second to make sure there was no lasting deafness, which also seemed to be ok, and third to make sure that he could explain that what Starsky had been forced to do would never make a difference to their relationship.

Slowly, and with a feeling that finally he was making some sort of progress after a week of blindly thrashing around, Hutch's eyes slid closed and finally he slept a peaceful sleep by the side of the man he was hell bent on protecting.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Traff smiled down at the woman beneath him and gently kissed one closed eyelid. Liz twitched her head and finally one glazed eye opened and she looked up at the handsome man lazily, the after effects of their love making keeping her warm and relaxed.

'Where'd you learn to do that?' she asked, her voice husky from their efforts.

'To do what? I didn't learn, it just came naturally and when I'm with a beautiful woman, it makes it all the easier' he admitted, meaning every word.

'Smooth talker! You didn't need to go to all this trouble you know. I like Dave too. Hell, once upon a time I thought I loved him. Of course I'd do whatever it takes to make this easier for him and for his friends.'

'Including applying for bail for him against his express wishes?' Traff persisted, playing with the end of her hair as he brushed it against her neck, watching the goose bumps rise as the woman shivered.

'Yeah, I guess. Including that. Especially after what you've told me of the treatment he's received. But knowing Dave he won't want to do anything about damages. But I can make an emergency bail application, yes although I should probably um….'

'Get dressed?'

Lis smiled. 'I know I'm only going to speak to Judge Reingold on the phone, but somehow, conversing with the Judiciary when I'm almost naked doesn't seem right.'

'Would it help if you were totally naked?' Traff asked as he watched the muscles in her beautifully rounded ass bunch as she stood up.

'No, Colonel, it would not' she grinned, dressing quickly and pushing her dishevelled hair behind her ears. Traff remained where he was on the ground, led on his side and with his head propped on his hand as he watched the woman suddenly become all business. Liz flicked through the desk diary she kept in her room and ran one well-manicured nail down a list of telephone numbers, pausing at the appropriate one. Clearing her throat, she dialled the number and paused, looking worriedly at her watch and then at the clock on the wall. Both read 9:20 and she sighed, knowing that the Judge wasn't going to take kindly to a telephone application this late on a Friday night when he was probably at home entertaining friends. A moment later, the telephone picked up and Traff heard her starting to negotiate the bail conditions.

As he waited the soldier thought back to his friend and the shock he'd experienced at seeing Starsky's injuries the first time. His blood ran cold as he thought how close he had come to him losing his old army friend for good. Even the doctors had said that it was only because of Starsky's amazing recuperative powers that he'd managed to pull through, and the soldier could only hope that when he did come around, the brunet would still be rowing with both oars and have his hearing in tact.

Five minutes later, and with Traff once more dressed and sitting quietly by the side of the room, Liz finished on the phone, replaced the receiver with a smile and looked up. 'Bail is set at 5000 and no other conditions. I managed to convince the Judge that in his present condition he isn't going to be going anywhere. I have the money, so I'll wire it over to the Judge's office now. As of five minutes ago, Dave is no longer a prisoner. Do you want to phone the Warden, or shall I?'

'Hey, you did all the hard work, the honour is all yours honey. Do you want to come back to the hospital and see him?'

Liz shook her head. 'You and Hutch should have some time with him. Keep him safe and make him well huh? I'll be along when he's woken up and you can be sure he's not bra….. when you know he's going to be ok. That's when I can be of most use. That's when you'll need me for the trial.'

Traff turned the full force of his emerald gaze on the woman, stood and crossed the room. He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips. 'You're wonderful. Brains and beauty all rolled into one. Can um… could I see you again?'

Liz nodded, blushing slightly. 'Of course. I thought you'd never ask, soldier boy.'

'I never pass up a date with a beautiful woman. Tomorrow night at seven maybe?'

She smiled shyly, suddenly very aware that they'd just had hot sex in her office and it was only the second time she'd ever met the man. 'Won't you be working?' she asked.

'No, I'm on leave for a month' Traff replied. There was a moment's pause.

'Then why the uniform? I'm curious.'

The soldier paused by the door and winked at her. 'All women are suckers for uniforms. Would I have got past first base if I'd dressed in jeans and a tee?'

Liz chuckled. 'Believe me, with that performance, you'd have had an in park home run if you'd have come dressed your granddad's saggy pants! See you tomorrow.'

The door closed softly behind him and Traff walked away down the corridor of the deserted building. That's what he liked! That was most definitely a twofer! Not only had he secured a measure of freedom for his friend, but he'd got a date with the hottest chick he'd met for an age to look forward to as well.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was almost ten thirty when Traff found his way back to the hospital. He'd stopped at Hutch's en route to change back into his civvies and wash up and now he was back dressed in jeans and a comfortable sweater against the cool night air. In the time that Starsky had been resident on the third floor, the nursing staff had grown accustomed to having the two visitors as almost constant room mates for the handsome but battered brunet and as he tiptoed past the nurses station, Anna, one of the night nurses looked up and smiled at him.

'Good news' she whispered. 'He woke up a while ago. Hutch is with him now.'

'And is he… does he um….' Traff didn't know how to ask about his friend's mental state, but still needed to be prepared for his first words with Starsky.

'He has some residual weakness down his left hand side, but the doctors think that will resolve itself. He's still deaf on one side, but only time will tell whether that's permanent, but he can hear quite well from the other ear. He's doing well' the matronly woman reported. 'You should probably head on in there and see him.'

Traff grinned at her, took a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and as he got to the room door, he showed it to the two guards from the prison. They both scrutinised the bail order and when asked, they handed a small silver key over to the soldier and waited in a more relaxed fashion outside the door. As Traff walked into the room, he saw that Hutch had pulled the chair up closer to the bed and that Starsky had managed to turn his head until he could face his partner. There was little conversation, but an air of friendship in the room. It was quiet, bathed in the warm amber glow of the single table lamp and Hutch looked up as the soldier walked in.

'Hey. Where've you been? Traff's here Starsk' he said.

In reply, Traff held up the key and made his way to the bed, unlocking the cuff from round Starsky's right wrist. He winced as he saw the reddened impression left by the manacle, but quickly removed the cuff and handed the contraption back to the guard. The two men nodded, mumbled their goodnights and walked off, happy to be rid of the dreaded bed-watch duty. As he walked back into the room four eyes regarded him curiously. Two crystal blue and two deep indigo questioned him silently but instead of answering right away, Traff leaned over the bed making sure the brunet could hear him clearly.

'Liz sends her love and says you never suited handcuffs anyway. You're on bail buddy. How're ya doin' Curly boy?'

Starsky's eyes focused on the soldier. He was still finding it difficult to hear well and it sounded as though he had a bee stuck in his ear, but he followed Traff's lips well enough and he licked his own cracked dry lips.

'Been better' he mumbled honestly.

'I bet. That's what happens when you take on the whole prison at once.

'The doctor says he should make a full recovery' Hutch said gently. 'He's been awake for a while now. Starsk, are you up to talkin'? There's somethin' I need to ask you.'

The brunet concentrated on the words, his brain still not letting him truly believe that after all that had happened and all that he'd done to Hutch, the blond would still want to be around him, let alone try to help him.

'Dunno….try' he rasped.

Traff sat down by the side of the bed as Hutch got up stiffly and reached for the book that had fallen from his lap some time during his snooze. He held it up, dusting it off. 'Beth came by. Seems like you made quite an impression on her buddy.'

'Uh huh….she's….nice' Starsky said simply. He had no energy and no sparkle in his voice. He was "there", but he felt flat, emotionless, as though the world was turning and he was watching it as though from a great distance but wasn't participating in life.

'Yeah, she is too' Hutch continued. 'She said you and her had been doing some hypnosis. Do you remember that Starsk?'

The brunet shook his head gently on the pillow. The last thing he really remembered was that goon of a guard Rafferty and the assaults he'd been forced to endure…and he didn't really want to dwell too much on those memories in any event.

Hutch ploughed on. The doctor had told him that Starsky's short-term memory may well be affected by the blows to his head. 'Ok, well you and she had a couple of sessions and then she asked an expert about conversational hypnotism – about the possibility of you being hypnotised over the telephone maybe? Seems it's not only possible, its probable and although Beth doesn't know it yet, this is the man who's been doing it.' Hutch held up the book and both Traff and Starsky looked at it.

Traff whistled. 'Weird kinda guy. Who's that?'

'Our murderer, Edgar Fisher' Hutch said.

As he started to put the book down however, Starsky tried to sit up in the bed. 'Nooo s'not him…. Not Edgar….didn't murder… he's….not him!' he cried, trying ineffectually to get out of bed. Weak as he was, Starsky was putting up a fair fight.

'Hey Starsk, its ok sssssh buddy. Take it easy huh?' Traff held him down gentlyas Hutch rang for the doctor.

'Starsk, ya have to face it buddy. Fisher is doing this to you. He's hypnotised you an' you have to fight it. Starsk! Starsky please don't struggle, you'll hurt yourself. No, Starsk.' But the more the blond tried to reassure Starsky, the harder the brunet fought and as the medic strode into the room, he flashed a look of anger at the flaxen haired cop before calling for a drug to be drawn up, which he injected into the port on the brunet's IV. As soon as the clear liquid started to infiltrate the curly haired man's system Starsky ceased fighting almost immediately and was asleep more or less straight away.

'What the hell has just gone on. If you cause any more trouble like that I'll have you both expelled from the building' the doctor hissed angrily. 'Are you gonna behave?'

Hutch nodded sadly. 'Yeah. M'sorry Doc, but I think we have our answer. It won't happen again, I promise.'

As the medic left the room, Traff looked up questioningly. 'What the hell?'

Hutch nodded grimly. 'Beth wasn't sure whether he was still under the influence of the first round of hypnosis or not. Looks like we just got our answer.'


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Starsky slept fitfully that night. He dreamed of tall, thin men, haunting voices and feelings of being trapped. Several times during the night, the doctors came back to check on him, telling Hutch that although the brunet's physical condition was improving nicely, his mental stability was still in question. Reluctantly the blond had to agree. His partner's outburst when he once again mentioned Edgar Fisher worried him a lot and Hutch had vowed to himself that once daylight arrived, he'd contact Beth again and ask her if she could help Starsky some more.

About midnight Traff whispered to Hutch that he was going to leave and go back to the apartment for a shower and some shut eye. Hutch smiled wearily, waved him off and went back to the hard little cot in the corner of the room to grab some sleep himself before tackling his partner again in the morning. As he led down, Hutch closed his eyes and the sounds of the hospital dimmed into the background as he drifted away to encounter his own dreams.

Sunlight flooded the room when the blond finally awoke. For a moment he blinked blearily at the shafts of light and passed a hand over his eyes as he groaned quietly and rolled his stiff back off the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress for a second or so, stretching his arm carefully in front of him to avoid jostling his injured left side. With a quiet hiss, Hutch got up and padded over to Starsky's bed, amazed when clear indigo blue eyes turned to regard him levelly.

'Hey buddy. How long have you been awake?' the blond asked.

'Dunno. A while. I was thinkin'.' Starsky's voice sounded a little stronger, although he still rasped like a rusty saw cutting through wood.

'Thinking of what?' Hutch asked as he pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and eased himself down onto it.

'Things….us….me and what I did to ya. Shit, I remember it Hutch. I remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. I remember the look in your eyes when you went down and I remember that look of pain on your face before you passed out. But I don't remember what made me do it. That's what's eatin' me. I have no defence for what I did. I know I meant to do it, but at the same time I knew it was wrong and I shouldn't. It was like I was watching my own hand squeeze the trigger an' I knew I was doin' it and yet I couldn't stop it. There was this little voice inside my head screamin' at me to stop, but I couldn't. Does that make sense? Does any of this make sense?'

The blond bowed his head and sighed. 'Very little makes sense any more Gordo. The only think I know for absolute sure is that I don't blame you for any of this. None of it, you hear me. This is not your fuckin' fault and no-one is ever gonna convince me that it is.'

Starsky shuffled round in the bed until he could face Hutch while still resting his head on the pillow. 'Hutch, you're gonna have to deal with it. I have no defence, so there aint gonna be a trial. I'm goin' down for a very long time and there're things I'd like you to do for me, if ya will.'

'I'm not talkin' about this Starsk. I can't talk about it. You aint goin' nowhere, got that? And you certainly aren't goin' to go back to jail' the blond muttered, his eyes refusing to meet his partner's piercing gaze.

Gently Starsky put out a hand and rested it on Hutch's knee, amazed that the blond didn't pull away from his touch. It was the first time he could remember wanting, or being courageous enough to want physical contact with his partner in weeks. His carefully built up wall of self preservation was crumbling fast. In its place was panic, terror and anger at his situation, and most of all fear that he'd lost the one truly great friendship he's ever had. But instead of pulling away, the blond covered the slim strong hand with his own honest square one.

'Blondie, you've got to face it. There's no alternative an' I aint gonna fight this. Just let me do this my way huh? I can't tell you how bad I feel, an' this aint self pity. This is just me, tellin' it like it is. I need you to sell my place, I won't be needin' it no more. After that, you can do what you want with the Torino. She's getting' to be an old lady anyhow so pretty soon she'll be in your beater league. You might even decide to keep her….'

Hutch tried to speak past the huge lump in his throat. 'Don't. Don't do this partner. We're gonna handle this one way or another and there's no way I'm gonna let you take the wrap for something that's not your fault.'

Starsky's eyebrows knitted together. 'Hutch….buddy…'

Hutch put his hand up. 'Don't "Hutch buddy" me. This had got to stop Starsk. I spoke with Beth and she tells me she thinks you were hypnotised…..that you still are. I'm not gonna tell you who by, you'll only get mad again and I think that's part of the hypnotism too. Let me talk to Beth again. Let us help you….please?'

'How can I still be hypnotised? I'm here speaking to you aren't I? Could I do that if I was still under someone's mojo?'

The blond shrugged his shoulders. 'Who am I to say? I'm not an expert, but Beth is, and you seem to like her. She certainly likes you.'

'She does?'

'Uh huh. She came to see you while you were still out. She wants to help buddy.'

Starsky smiled shyly. 'God knows why.'

'Yeah, I can't think either' Hutch grinned. 'Will you let me ring her?'

The brunet closed his eyes and nodded wearily. A small bloom of hope started up in his chest. Unable to contemplate the future if she couldn't help and with memories of Rafferty's face leering down at him, Starsky nodded. 'Fine. I think you're clutching at straws, but you can call her if you like.'

'Uh huh. I like! Be right back buddy.' Hutch got up stiffly from the chair and limped to the door. 'Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back.'

That afternoon and with the doctor's permission, Beth came by the hospital and walked into Starsky's room. The woman smiled at him, relief in her eyes as she saw the drips had been taken down and the handcuff had been removed from the man's wrist.

'Well don't you look better?' she said as she pulled up a chair by the bedside.

'Feel better' Starsky admitted, watching the smile that Beth had for Hutch too. The blond smiled back at her and Starsky stowed his questions down for later, knowing there was something going on between his partner and his shrink.

'Good. Has Hutch spoken to you about our conversation?'

'He said you thought I was still hypnotised. How can that be? I don't feel like I'm doin' anythin' crazy.'

'You aren't Dave. But you could still be under the influence. Dave, do you promise to try and fight your feelings for a while if I tell you something?'

'Fight my….. what do you mean fight my feelings? What's my feelings got to do with anythin'?' Starsky asked, his heart beginning to pump a little faster.

'I mean, whenever someone mentions a certain name, you get angry….defensive. I want you to fight those feelings while I try to explain something to you. I want to give you some more of the sodium pentothal that we tried in my office. Just a small dose to begin, so that you relax a little. Can I do that?'

'I guess so' the brunet looked over at Hutch. 'Are ya gonna stay?'

'If you want me to buddy, course.'

Starsky nodded and watched intently as Beth drew a small amount of the colourless fluid into her syringe and injected it into the muscle of his arm. A moment later, the familiar, slightly sickly feeling of the drug took him over and the brunet rested his head back on the pillow.

'Are you feeling it?' Beth asked

'Yeah.'

'Ok. I want you to concentrate on my voice Dave. Just my voice and if you feel angry, I want you to tell me right away. Do you understand?'

'Yeah.'

'Dave, the man called Edgar Fisher hypnotised you. Do you remember that?'

Immediately the name was mentioned, Starsky started to get a creeping feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'Edgar wouldn't. He Edgar…'

'Think past it Dave. Let it move on. Listen to my voice and let your feelings pass you by. Edgar Fisher hypnotised you because you were investigating him for the murders of the children at the home. Listen to me. Listen to my voice' Beth urged as she saw the brunet's hands ball into fists. Starsky's jaw muscle worked as he fought for some control and slowly his fists relaxed and his breathing calmed. Beth too relaxed.

'Good. That's good Dave. Now I want to give you some more of the drug and I want to find out what's been happening to you. Will you let me do that?'

Again the brunet nodded, the pull of the drug on his weakened system being too big to fight. 'Yeah.' He felt another bee sting scratch on his arm and the feelings of warmth and relaxation increased so that he felt heavy and even the thoughts of opening his eyes was almost too much effort. As though from a great distance, he heard the woman's voice talking to him.

'Dave I want to take you back to the first time you had a telephone call in the evening during your last case. I don't want you to fight the memories, but if they get too bad, I'm gonna pull you out of them. Is that ok?'

Starsky swallowed, his throat felt dry and his lips large and uncoordinated. It was an effort to speak and for a brief moment his mind went back to the last time Beth had used the drug on him. Then Rafferty had sent his friends for him. Then he'd been hurt and ended up in the hospital. His breathing deepened and a moan escaped his lips.

'Dave what are you thinking about?' Beth asked quietly.

'Guards…..Rafferty…..he's waiting for me. He's in the cell when they….oh God he's gonna make me…..no, not again, please not again. I can't…'

Beth raised troubled eyes to the blond who was watching intently. She knew where that particular memory was heading, but that was a whole different issue that Starsky would have to deal with later. She raised her voice a little.

'Let it pass Dave. Watch it and let it pass. I want you to go back to the phone call. You're in your house and the phone rings.'

'Yeah….phone' Starsky mumbled drowsily. His eyes were closed and his breathing was more regular, his voice thick and heavy.

'Tell me what happens next. The phone rings and…..'

'Phone….um, yeah, phone rings. I get up and pick it up. Say H'llo.' The brunet's eyebrows drew together in concentration and his hands clawed at the sheets on the bed. 'It's…..a man. He says my name an' I ask him who he is. I hear him kinda laugh and he asks me why I'm a cop…..I um….why I'm a cop….' The curly haired man's chin crept down to rest on his chest and he stopped speaking for a moment until Beth prompted him gently.

'Keep with it Dave, you're doing well. He asked why you were a cop.'

Starsky took a deep breath and his eyes flashed open for a moment before closing again. 'Yeah… said it was tough…. I said yeah an' he…..he……I don't remember. Shit I don't….. he said…..' hands clawed into balls against the sheets as Starsky fought to retrieve the memories buried deep. By his side, Hutch shuffled closer and Beth rested her hand on the brunet's arm.

'Dave relax….move on. Concentrate on the name. Did he give you his name?'

'Ummm, name? He um….said I shouldn't tell anyone…..shouldn't tell anyone he called…..our secret…..not to tell. I… don't……can't.'

Again Beth intercepted. 'Listen to my voice Dave. Listen to my voice and remember. Give me a name. He's told me it's ok for you to tell me. He says it's not a secret any more. Tell me his name.'

Starsky's face registered confusion. 'Not secret? Not….he said…..said. It was….' Sweat started to bead on the brunet's forehead and a trickle ran down the side of his face to be absorbed by the dressing on the side of his neck. His hands clawed again at the sheets as he fought with his internal programming and finally his lips worked at forming the word and one name was forced from his lips.

'EDGAR' he yelled into the darkness and then lay back, panting on the pillow. Hutch snarled the name as though echoing it.

'Edgar Fisher. I knew as much!'

Starsky was still struggling with his memories and Beth saw that he was exhausted and weakening fast. She reached up and touched Starsky on his shoulder.

'You've done well Dave. I'm going to count backwards to one and when I do, you'll relax and sleep and when you wake up you'll feel rested and well. Three, two, one and sleep.'

The brunet's eyes closed, his lashes laying against flushed cheeks as his body relaxed. Beth looked up.

'Does that answer your questions? Dammmit, Edgar Fisher! The author of that book. Shit Hutch! I spoke to him about Dave. He knows!'

Hutch smiled grimly. 'Its ok honey. I'm here to watch his back, and I'm gonna be phoning our Captain. Within hours, the whole Bay City PD is gonna be hunting Fisher down. Aint no way he's gonna get back at Starsky now. You did well girl'

'Tell me that when he's behind bars and Dave is free again.'

'Can I tell you over a candlelit dinner instead?' the blond asked as he rose and kissed the woman on her cheek.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Hutch walked with Beth to the door or Starsky's hospital room and out into the corridor.

'You did good Honey. We're making progress. Now I need to call Dobey and tell him to get an APB out on Fisher. Jeez, that slimy weasel! I had no idea that someone could by hypnotised so thoroughly without every having met his hypnotist.'

Beth nodded. 'Don't underestimate Mr Fisher. It takes an expert in his field to be able to do that and I have to warn you that Dave isn't out of the woods yet. There must have been a trigger word that Fisher implanted in Dave's subconscious to be able to get him to do what he did. We have to find that trigger word before we can start to work on slackening Fisher's hold on Dave.'

'You mean he's still under Edgar's influence? Even now?' Hutch asked incredulously.

'Uh huh. I would say it's gonna take a lot of sessions before I can manage to break that. Only Edgar Fisher himself could release Dave right now. And he could do it with one word, but somehow, I get the impression that even if you catch him, he isn't going to want to co-operate.'

The blond cop looked pensive. 'You know how Starsky was when I mentioned Fisher's name? How he came across aggressive and, well…. kinda protective?'

'Yes.'

'You don't think he could have put all the kids at the children's home under the same sort of influence do you? I mean, each and every one of them that we interviewed all said they didn't really like Fisher, but when we asked them about him, they all get defensive. Is that possible? Could he have hypnotised them too, to protect himself?'

Beth nodded slowly. 'It's possible. It would mean a lot of hard work, but I guess if he did kill those poor kids…… and we've see the pull he has over Dave. Well, anything is possible. I need to get back, but I'll come by again tomorrow and work some more with him if you like?'

Hutch smiled fondly at her. 'I'd like that a lot. And maybe when Starsky's a little better, we could get to know each other better too?'

Mesmerised by crystal blue eyes, Beth nodded. 'I think I'd like that' she breathed. With difficulty she pulled herself away from the handsome cop's gaze and walked quickly back down the corridor as Hutch went to the payphone by the nurses' station to call Dobey.

Meanwhile, in the small hospital room, Starsky had been quietly sleeping, his session with Beth having left him tired, exhausted even, but at the same time relaxed. So it was with a start that he woke when the telephone by the side of the bed jangled into life. The brunet's eyes shot open and for a moment he looked around, hoping that Hutch would answer the telephone and he could go back to his warm and comfortable dreams. Seeing that his buddy had slipped out, however, Starsky managed to roll himself over in the bed and snagged the receiver.

'H'llo' he mumbled sleepily into the telephone.

A familiar, low voice sounded down the phone to him. 'Good evening David. How are you? Have your visitors gone? I know they were with you.'

Starsky's eyelids slid half shut as the voice he knew so well took over his consciousness. Again, he felt as though speaking was too much effort, but at the same time, the voice compelled him to listen…..and to obey.

'They've gone' he managed to breathe.

'Well that's good. They're meddling. Remember our secret David. I need you to remember what I told you. This is our secret. Yours and mine.'

'Yeah…..secret' Starsky mumbled with difficulty.

The voice continued. 'Can you remember what you need to do David? Tell me what I told you. Tell me now.'

The brunet's eyes closed, his grip on the telephone slackened as he leaned the side of his head against the receiver. With a great effort, he tried to form the words. He was tired. Very tired. But the voice had commanded him and he knew he couldn't disobey. 'Remember' he mumbled 'No talking, no telling tales. Our secret.'

'That's excellent David. Very good. Now, you're going to go to sleep and when you wake up, you'll remember nothing of this conversation, but you won't want to talk to anyone about us. You won't want to get Edgar into trouble, will you? If you do….if you start to think about Edgar, it will hurt. It will hurt your head. You'll start with small pains, but as you struggle to remember, those pains will get worse. They'll consume you. They'll stop you thinking of anything to do with me, or the case, or the children's home. Do you have that David? Do you understand?'

'Yeah….understand. Sleepy'

'Good. Now sleep David. Sleep…..and remember.' The line went dead and automatically, Starsky replaced the receiver on the hook and drifted off into another deep sleep, his head cushioned on his right arm, his left dangling over the side of the bed.

But his dreams were not the comfortable warm dreams that he'd had at the end of the session with Beth. Instead, pains assaulted his senses as his mind subconsciously tried to battle the programming Edgar was forcing onto him. The more he tried to think about Edgar Fisher, the worse they became and at the same time, his dreams turned from uncomfortable to out and out nightmares.

_Starsky was standing in the middle of a field of ripe golden corn. The ears of corn stood as tall as his waist and as he looked, the wind blew waves across the acres of grain crop making it look like a warm golden sea. In the distance, he saw a familiar figure and slowly he started to walk towards his partner, his legs impeded in their progress by the corn around his ankles. The plants seemed to grab at his ankles and Hutch turned to look at him and then started to walk away._

_'Hutch! HUUUUUTCH wait! Wait for me' the brunet shouted, although the breeze took his words and ripped them from his mouth flinging them over his shoulder. Hutch put his hand to his ear as though straining to hear Starsky's call, but then he turned and started to walk away._

_The curly haired man tried to run to catch up with his buddy, but his feet seemed to be sinking into the mud and he could hardly raise one foot in front of the other. He tried to grab hold of the tall grasses around him to haul himself forward, but the more he tried to make progress, the slower and more difficult it became until he seemed to be rooted in one spot._

_Starsky could feel himself getting angrier by the moment. He felt the cold metal of his gun in his hand and as Hutch started to walk back towards him, he raised his weapon and aimed at the blond's heart. The gun kicked in his hand and a bright bloom of red appeared on Hutch's shirt as the flaxen haired cop fell to his knees._

_On his bed, Starsky's sweat soaked body curled into a ball, subconsciously trying to hide itself from the terrifying nightmare he was locked into. He moaned Hutch's name, while back in his dream world he yelled for his partner._

_'HUUUUTCH!'_

_Amazingly, the blond staggered to his feet, reaching for Starsky with one blood soaked hand as again, the brunet felt the hot metal buck in his hand and another slug pierced his partner's body. Again Hutch went down and again Starsky felt as though his heart was being ripped from his own body by the shock and the feelings of complete helplessness. He didn't want to shoot. God knows he didn't want to hurt Hutch and yet something was forcing him – making his finger twitch against the trigger time and again._

_Once more, the blood soaked figure of his buddy staggered to its feet, a look of pain fear and disbelief registering on the golden features and once again a shot rang out as Starsky sobbed Hutch's name into the heavy hot air of the corn field._

_'Hutch….no, oh please God no. Hutch!' he moaned, managing to pull himself closer to the body on the ground. As he reached it, and fell to his knees by Hutch's side, he rolled the body over and saw not the blond's familiar face, but a thinner, greying man whose watery blue eyes stared unwaveringly at him._

_'Remember David. Remember our secret. Don't tell…..don't tell.'_

_The face once more morphed into Hutch's and Starsky stared down at the bullet holes pock marking his partner's body. So many and all oozing blood. Desperately, Starsky tried to put his hands over the one at a time to try to stem the bleeding. 'Don't leave me Hutch. Don't go. I'm sorry buddy….so sorry. I didn't mean to. Honest, I didn't mean to….don't die Hutch, please don't leave me' he mumbled._

_The brunet looked down at his hands. They were soaked in blood – Hutch's blood and his partner's face was pale beneath him, eyelids open and sightless crystal blue eyes staring accusingly at him. The blond gave a final ragged breath and Starsky screamed his defiance out at the world._

_'HUUUUUUUTCH!'_

In the quiet of the hospital room, the scream was translated to a moan caught just as Hutch returned to the room. Immediately, the blond rushed over to the bed. Starsky looked as though he'd been trying to get out of the bed, his face and body beaded in perspiration and his curls matted damply against his forehead. The brunet's breath whistled through his throat as though he'd run a marathon and he struggled weakly in Hutch's grip.

'Didn't mean it…..don't go…..Hutch……don't die, Nooooooo.'

Gently, the blond took a hold of his partner's body and held it to him, rocking backwards and forwards soothingly.

'Sssh Starsk, Sssh partner. I'm right here, right here. I'm ok. See. I'm ok, I'm fine. Wake up buddy. Wake up for me huh? Starsk?'

Very slowly, the tremors in the brunet's body ceased and Starsky's eyes opened, focusing a moment later on Hutch's face.

'Ut….ch?' he mumbled thickly.

'Yeah. That was quite a nightmare you were having buddy. S'ok. You're back now. Wanna share?'

Carefully, Starsky pushed himself away from Hutch's grip and rested back on the damp pillow. He sighed, trying to get his breathing under control as he rubbed a hand over his face. Relief flooded his being at seeing his partner sitting on his bed, alive and well. Only the sling protecting the blond's left arm reminded Starsky that the nightmare had been a vague echo of a reality he'd sooner forget.

'You were hurt. I shot ya…..an' you kept getting up, so I shot you again. It was so real…..so…. Shit Hutch! I can't live through that again. I can't live through thinkin' I killed you.'

'Hey, I'm here. You didn't kill me. I'm right here an' I'm not goin' anywhere. It was a nightmare. It's over. We're gonna deal with this buddy. Together, like always. Sound good?'

A small shy smile crossed Starsky's face. 'Yeah….. like the sound of that.' The brunet's eyes drifted closed. 'M'sleepy….can hardly keep my eyes open. Tired.'

'Well sleep buddy. I'm right here. Tomorrow's another day and tomorrow we start looking for Fish….'

The word wasn't half out of his mouth before Starsky's eyes flashed open angrily. 'Leave him alone! He aint done nothin.'

Hutch nodded swiftly. 'Fine, yeah, not a problem Starsk. It's fine. Just sleep huh. Just sleep.'

As the blond watched Starsky's body relax and his breathing assumed the quiet regularity of sleep, he bowed his head in defeat. _Guess we're not out of the woods yet, like the lady said. But we'll get there Gordo, we'll get there. I'm not letting you out of my sight._


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Starsky managed to sleep better once Hutch was back in the room. It seemed to the blond however that his partner was dreaming as his body twitched on the bed and occasionally a low moan would be forced from his lips. By morning both men had managed to catch some sleep and awoke feeling a little more relaxed. Hutch was awake first and he led on the narrow cot for a while staring at the ceiling before he heard movements from the bigger bed and got up to check on his partner.

Starsky's eyes still held a haunted, hunted look, although the dark circles around them were disappearing slowly but surely and as Hutch eased himself off the bed, the brunet was throwing back to covers and rolling himself into a sitting position. He stopped for a moment while the room stopped doing a salsa around him.

'Easy there buddy. Should you be getting up?' Hutch asked, concern lining his sleep crumpled face.

'If I lay in bed one minute longer, I'm gonna go crazy…. well, even more crazy' the brunet smiled wryly. 'Sometimes a man's just gotta pee on his own. Gimme a hand up and then stand back. Starsky's on the move' he grinned.

Delighted to see a little bit of fire back in his buddy's eyes, Hutch helped get Starsky balanced and then stood to one side as the brunet tottered to the small bathroom. There were small, domestic sounds of running water, towels and the like and then a grey faced brunet came back into the room and eased himself down onto the chair with a grunt, unwilling to admit just how tired the small actions had made him.

'Made it' he crowed, obviously pleased with himself.

Hutch handed him a towel to wipe at the wet curls still plastered to his forehead. It was obvious that while Starsky had managed to get himself washed, drying was too much of a task and he sat dripping onto the floor.

'Uh huh. Today the bathroom, tomorrow the world huh?'

'You got it. Now where's the Doc.? I wanna get out of here. I have things to deal with before…. well before I go back there.'

The unspoken word "jail" lingered in the air and Hutch looked away in distress.

'Starsk don't do this. You can't plead guilty coz you weren't. We've established the fact that Fi….' Hutch cut himself off short from finishing the word as he saw his partner's body tense. 'We've established the fact that someone forced you to do all this and so long as Liz can work that defence, which she will buddy, she will, you don't need to worry about going back to that hell hole. There's no way I'm gonna testify against you, you know that.'

The brunet stared at the shiny tiles on the floor. 'I knew you wouldn't, but it don't alter the fact of what I did to you. I know you're tryin' to protect me, but Hutch don't ya see. Even if I got off scot free, it's still up here, in my head. I can't get rid of the picture of you lyin' on the ground with my slugs in your chest.'

Hutch rounded almost angrily on his partner. 'Just like I can't help but think that if I'd shouted louder you'd have got down faster and Gunther's goons wouldn't have shot you? Don't you think that I think about that every single day of my life? It aint easy. Life aint easy, but we have to deal with it. We have to deal with what life throws at us and the only way I know how to do that is with my partner's help. I watched you struggle through those months of recovery an' I felt like crap every day, but you kept me goin'. It was seein' your determination while you were sweating blood and tears that got me through it, and now it's your turn. I'm getting there. I'm dealing with what happened in the best way I can but I need you to stop beating yourself up about what happened. It happened, I got hurt, but so did you buddy, and now we move on…… We move on, got it?'

Hutch stood panting slightly with exertion and emotion from the long speech and for a moment there was silence in the room. Eventually there was the sound of a soft snicker and Starsky raised his head.

'Hot damn Hutch. You're magnificent when you're angry!'

The blond's eyes blazed back angrily at his buddy and met softened indigo blues. Tension flowed between the two men, thrumming through the air like electricity before Hutch's face cracked into a grin and he perched on the side of Starsky's vacated bed.

'Are you ever gonna listen to me though?'

'Maybe. When I get outa here and stop feeling like an invalid. Go find the Doc huh? I wanna go home.'

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Later that day, and with the doctor's permission that so long as he rested, he could go home that evening, Starsky received another visit from Beth. The woman had promised to help the brunet through his difficulties, although she admitted to herself that while she found Dave Starsky to be an attractive man, she was still more attracted to his golden, flaxen haired partner. Hutch had a gentle, direct way to him which she found touching, refreshing and also sometimes disconcerting. She was also impressed by the way the two men interacted and it was that strong bond that urged her on to help the both of them.

Beth arrived just after lunch time and smiled as she saw both men asleep, Starsky on the bed and Hutch slumped in the chair close by. As the door closed behind her, the brunet's eyes cracked open and he regarded the woman sleepily. By his side, Hutch let out a soft snore, his head resting right back on the chair back. Starsky stretched carefully and grinned.

'He's great out of the traps, but he has no stayin' power.'

'You look better' Beth said, genuinely relieved that it seemed there was no lasting damage to her favourite prisoner.

'Yeah. Tired I guess, an' I know my head is still messed up, but I guess that's what you're here to deal with.'

'Uh huh. And the fact that you've realised that your head is messed up is a big step towards you dealing with it. Have you remembered any more about the case?'

Starsky started to nod, his mind going back to the investigation when suddenly he got a blinding pain over his right eye. It was sudden enough to make him gasp and clutch at his forehead and Beth's forehead furrowed in concern.

'Are you ok Dave?' she asked quietly.

'Hmm? Oh um, yeah….yeah. I'm good. Just a headache.'

'Ok. You did so well yesterday that I want to try the sodium pentothal again. I've checked with your doctor and he says it's ok. Are you up for it?'

'Is it gonna make me better?'

'I don't know about better, but I have the feeling that the person who has you under his influence has conditioned you to respond to a trigger word. If I can find that, then we're making progress.'

'Trigger word? Makes me sound like a dog' Starsky grunted, rolling up the sleeve of his pyjama jacket to give the woman room to inject him with the drug. The brunet hated the feeling of emptiness and powerlessness it brought, but at the same time, he was desperate to get to the bottom of what had happened to him. Closing his eyes, he felt the cold alcohol swab and then the familiar bee sting scratch preceding the pull of the drug. As he felt himself drawn down into the warm embrace of the truth serum, he heard Hutch yawn loudly as he woke up.

Beth's voice came at him from a distance. 'Dave I want you to think back to the phone calls you had. You told me that Edgar phoned you. Is that right?'

Hutch watched intently as his partner seemed to struggle with the response. Starsky seemed to be in pain and rubbed at his forehead and the bridge of his nose. 'Edgar….yeah. Edgar phoned he….' A groan escaped his lips, cutting off his sentence.

'Think past the name Dave. Think past the name and concentrate on what was said. You're doing well. This isn't the call, I want you to imagine you're a spectator listening in. There's no pain and no-one is going to hurt you. Ok?'

Dreamily, Starsky nodded. 'No pain….just listen, yeah.'

'So you've answered the telephone. Is this the first call?'

'Um…..dunno. He knows me. Knows my name. Calls me Dave. Tells me he needs to check if I'm ok.'

'Tell me how he checks' Beth urged, wondering what that meant.

Again a flash of pain creased Starsky's brow and again Beth told her patient to relax and allow the conversation to unfold like a radio programme he was listening to. Starsky relaxed marginally.

'He says he has to check that I'm his. Says he wants me to follow his instructions….tells me it's important to do what he says.'

From the other side of the bed, Hutch's eyebrows rose. Now they were getting somewhere.

Starsky was continuing. 'Says I have to do as he says and he'll tape our conversation. I can hear the tape click on and he tells me this is our secret. Tells me he needs to test how far I'll go. Tells me he likes me…he tells me that he needs to see how much I like him.'

Beth saw Hutch's hands ball into fists at the other side of the bed. Reluctant to allow the blond to impede her progress with her patient, she motioned Hutch to wait outside as she pressed on with her questions. Starsky was showing signs of stress. Perspiration once more beaded his brow and upper lip and his body was tense, twitching at unseen pains.

The blond rose slowly and made a telephone motion with his hands, mouthing "phoning Dobey about tapes" as he left the room. Beth turned her attention back to her patient who was continuing.

'He tells me…..oh God, no, I don't want to do that. No. It's not right….it's…'

'Move on Dave. Watch it and move on' Beth's voice interrupted his moaning and for a moment Starsky stopped his ramblings.

'Tell me how Edgar tested you' Beth said, knowing that it would have to be something difficult, designed to test the power of his hypnosis over his subject's free will. The test would have to be something that Edgar would know Starsky would find abhorrent, just like he would find shooting Hutch against his nature.

'He tells me….damn….tells me he wants me to….dear God no.'

'It's nearly over Dave. Nearly over, but you need to tell me to move on.'

'He tells me he wants me to jack off so that he can hear me down the phone' Starsky almost yelled at her, his eyes tight closed at the pain of the memory.'

Stunned, Beth could hardly find the words for a moment to bring the man out of his terrible memories. Starsky continued to shake with indignation and fear but slowly the woman put her hand on his shoulder.

'You did well Dave, very well. When I count backwards to one, you'll sleep. You'll sleep and awake feeling rested. Three, Two, One and sleep.'

Beneath her hand, the brunet's body relaxed and shakily Beth got to her feet, determined that this part of the therapy at least, she would not be sharing with Hutch.

She went to the door of the room and out into the corridor, feeling that there was no air in the room. Fisher, the man she'd hailed as an expert in his field was a monster and she vowed she'd help Hutch as much as she could to nail the bastard.

Hutch walked slowly up the corridor to meet her. 'Over already? Did you get anywhere with him today?'

'Um….oh, yeah. We um….. we didn't find the trigger word, but we covered a lot of ground. I know for certain now that Fisher has him so deeply under his control that only he, or another expert is going to be able to break his hypnotic influence. Dave is still in danger while Edgar Fisher is at large.'

'Well, I've phoned Dobey. Told him that if anyone does pick Fisher up, they should be looking for tapes too. That'll be our primary evidence against him.'

'Tell them not to listen to them Hutch. It's important' Beth said urgently.

'Why? Are they dangerous or something?'

'No, not dangerous, but private and it's Dave's privacy we're dealing with.'

Hutch's brow furrowed. 'What did he do? What's on the tapes Beth? What did he force Starsky to do?'

The woman smiled weakly. 'You don't want to know, and Dave wouldn't want you to know. It was a test of Edgar Fisher's power over him, that's all.'

'And I guess my partner passed?'

'With flying colours' Beth said grimly. 'I have to go. He'll sleep for a while and he won't remember much when he wakes up, fortunately. I can come by again tomorrow.'

'Come by my place. The Doc says he can go home this evening, so while he's sleeping I'm gonna head off back to my house and get it ready for him. I'll be back about six to pick him up and get him home. Don't worry Beth, we're grateful for everything you're doing for us. He'll be safe. I'll keep him that way.'

Hutch and Beth walked back down the corridor and outside into the afternoon sunshine. The blond walked her to her car and stood by the open door. Hutch kissed the woman tenderly on her lips and hugged her to him. 'Is it good for a man to fall for a shrink?' he asked softly.

'Only if you don't want to keep secrets' she grinned. 'We have ways and means!'

The flaxen haired cop waited until Beth had drive away before getting into his old LTD and heading off back to Venice Place. Not finding a need to look in the mirror, he didn't see the tall thin man in the BMW close by, listening with his window down. The man smiled to himself and settled down to wait for a while.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hutch and Traff spent an enjoyable afternoon getting Hutch's pad ready for the brunet's homecoming. Deciding that Starsky's place would hold too many bad memories, and not wanting to disturb Beth's treatment, both friends decided it would be better if Starsky came back to Hutch's. By five o'clock, the place was as neat as a new pin and clean as a whistle. Hutch grabbed his keys from the table by the door.

'We'll be back in an hour. Have the beer chilling huh?' he said as Traff flipped him a wave.

20 minutes later, Hutch drew up inside the parking lot at the hospital and whistling quietly under his breath he took the elevator up to the first floor. Walking along the corridor he was just about to head to Starsky's room when he saw orderlies pushing a gurney holding a body into it. His heart in his mouth, Hutch rushed towards the body but was brought up short when he saw a tuft of ginger hair sticking out of a bandage around the patients head. Most definitely not chocolate coloured curls.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, the blond ran back to the nurses' station and rapped on the counter top.

'Starsky. Dave Starsky from room 122. Where is he?' he asked.

Alice, one of the night nurses looked up from her charts. 'David went home about an hour ago.'

'What?' the world spun around Hutch and he grabbed sickly for the counter. 'Who? Who did he go with?' he asked urgently.

'It was a lovely man. Tall, distinguished looking. Dave knew him and left with him quite happily. I thought maybe it was his uncle?'

'Did he give a name?'

'Yes, he did. It was…um…now isn't that odd? I can't remember and I'm so good at names usually' Alice said.

'Was it Edgar Fisher?'

'NO!' Alice's voice rose as she glared at Hutch. The blond smiled back grimly.

'You just answered my question.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Hutch raced from the ward and back down the steps to the parking lot of the hospital. As he got to his car, a knife like pain lanced through his chest and he bent double grasping with his right hand at the dressing still covering the bullet wounds on the left hand side of his chest. _Not now Hutchy, you don't have time for this now _he told himself as he managed to wrench the car door open and get back inside. He paused for a few seconds, getting his breath, using his yoga practice to slow his heartbeat down until the pains abated slightly. Concentrating on his breathing also gave his mind time to clear and Hutch rested back against the seat wondering what he was going to do now. Where had Edgar taken Starsky and what was the evil hypnotist's plan for his partner?

In desperation, he reached for the mic. on his dashboard and thumbed the switch.

'This is zebra three to central. Zebra three to central, come in please.'

A woman's voice sounded over the airwaves, a hint of surprise and concern in her voice. 'Hutch? Is that you honey? You're meant to be at home workin' on getting better.'

'I know Mildred, but I need to speak to Dobey. Can you patch me through?'

'He's gone home for the night Hon. I can try him at home for you?'

'Wherever. I just need to speak to him quick. Starsky's in big trouble.'

That was all that was needed and the blond heard the mysterious whirs and clicks on the line bearing evidence to the fact that Mildred was working her magic on the switchboard. A moment later, the line cleared and Edith's voice sounded down the phone.

'Hutch dear? How are you? Harold said you were out of the hospital. How are you?'

I've been better. Edith, is the Captain there? It's urgent.'

'I'm sorry honey. It's his night at the Buffalo's meeting tonight. He won't be back till later. Can I get him to call you?'

Hutch closed his eyes in desperation. 'Yeah, yeah do that will you. If I'm not at home, I'll be in my car. Thanks.'

As Hutch replaced the mic. onto its cradle he stared out of the windshield at the rapidly darkening sky.

_What now Gordo? Where are ya? What's that flake __Fisher doing now huh?_

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Starsky followed behind the tall thin man obediently as he was led down to the car. Nurses called goodbye to him and he knew that he was answering them, but it seemed to him that he was participating in a waking dream. He opened his mouth and the appropriate words came out and yet he had no idea what he was saying, or why he was saying it.

Edgar had appeared at his room door half an hour ago and had closed it quietly behind him. The brunet had looked up, expecting to see his partner with a suitcase packed with his going home clothes. Instead fear pierced his heart as the familiar voice greeted him.

'Hello David. I'm glad we finally get to meet face to face. It's so much easier this way.'

Starsky was about to press the button for the nurse call, although he had no idea why he should feel like this. The only thinking he knew was that he really didn't want to be in the room with this man he knew as Edgar. Fisher saw the move and crossed the room in three swift strides, placing one hand on the brunet's shoulder while the other he held in front of Starsky's face, palm out and fingers splayed.

'Sleep' he commanded and immediately, the light went out behind the brunet's eyes and his chin fell to his chest.

'David we're going to go now. I want you to follow me. When you wake up, you'll follow me outside and to the car. Is that clear? Three, two, one and wake.'

Slowly Starsky's head raised and he blinked as though coming out of a long sleep. He gazed at the man with little recognition in his eyes and automatically held out his hand to accept the jeans and tee shirt that Edgar handed him. 'I wasn't sure of your size, but these should be ok. Put them on quickly.'

Like an automaton, the brunet removed his pyjamas and stepped into the jeans, pulling them up his legs. They fit well enough, but were not as tight as those he usually wore. Shouldering into the plain white tee shirt, he stood with his arms at his sides, waiting for his next set of instructions. On the outside, he was a marionette waiting for his strings to be pulled. On the inside, his mind was blank. Subconsciously, the cop part of David Starsky was screaming at him to move; to break free and run, while the rest of his mind told him to stand still and wait for Edgar to tell him what to do next.

Packing away all his belongings into the holdall, Edgar took a final look round the room. 'Follow me. Say goodbye to the nurses and follow me quietly outside.'

'Follow you, yeah.' Starsky managed to murmur, falling into line behind Edgar's figure as the tall man pushed out of the room. The nurses lined up to say goodbye to the man who they'd come to like and Starsky smiled at them, allowed them to kiss him on the cheek and waved goodbye. He heard it all, felt it all, but didn't "participate". David Starsky was most definitely not rowing with both oars.

Getting into the car in the parking lot, the brunet buckled his seat belt once Edgar had told him what to do and together they drove in silence out of the city and out along the coast road, south. It was twilight now and the sunset leant flashes of red, amber, pink and crimson to the rapidly darkening sky. It was peaceful inside the car and Edgar hummed a tune to himself as he drove. Beside him, Starsky was preternaturally quiet. Once away from the lights of the city, Fisher floored the gas and sped along the unlit road, nursing his car round the bends as Starsky sat by his side, his eyes seeing the road, but not registering that he was being driven away from Hutch and Traff, the two men who could save him.

Finally, half an hour later and under the cover of moonlight, Edgar drew the car into a dirt filled lay-by and switched off the engine. He ordered Starsky to get out of the car and together, they crossed the road and climbed over the shallow dunes to the beach. The tang of the salt air assailed Starsky's nostrils and the cool evening wind ruffled his curls and raised goose bumps on his chilled arms. He shivered, but obediently followed Edgar across the sands to the waters edge. There he stood with his hands held loosely at his sides as he watched the man circle him slowly. Edgar walked around his subject, trailing his hands softly over Starsky's bruised flesh. The cuts and contusions stood out darkly in the moonlight and Fisher touched each visible wound. 'Such a shame what they did to you in prison David. Such a shame to mar such a lovely body. It's almost criminal to damage you like that. So inelegant. It's much more fun to control you like I control you. I can bend you to my will and make you do anything I want. Can't I David? Remember our little sessions on the telephone huh? You sounded so… ecstatic you were almost in pain. I taped those calls you know, and played them back over and again just to hear your cries and moans. Did you like performing for me David? You can tell the truth you know.'

The brunet turned empty eyes to his master and blinked. 'No, I didn't like it' he said in a toneless voice.

'That's such a shame. You did so well at following my instructions then. But then you didn't keep our promise, did you?' Fisher asked, his voice that of a disappointed father or schoolteacher.

'Dunno….I tried' Starsky's voice had a far off, spaced out quality reflecting the fact that he was zoned and completely under the master hypnotist's control.

'Not hard enough. I'm disappointed in you. You disobeyed me when I asked you not to tell them my name, and you know what happens to people who don't follow the rules?'

'Punishment?'

'Yes, that's right, punishment. You disobeyed me and now you're going to pay.'

'I don't want to do that again' Starsky said, struggling against the power of the man's voice. His left hand twitched at the memory and the core of his body spasmed reflexively.

'You don't want? I'm amazed at the strength of your mind David. I'm truly awed that you can still fight me. Listen carefully David and look into my eyes.' Edgar put a finger under his subject's chin and raised it so that he could see into Starsky's face. The brunet fought with every ounce of will to not look into those hooded, pale, watery eyes, but try as he might, he was unable to resist and slowly, his eyes locked with Edgar's.

The beginning of the end.

'David. You will remember nothing of your life. You'll remember nothing of me, or of Hutchinson or Trafford. You won't remember that you were a cop or that you were investigating a murder. Your past has been totally erased. You don't know your name. You don't have a name. Any attempt to try to remember will be intensely painful, so painful that you won't want to try to remember. Do you understand?'

Slowly Starsky nodded. 'Don't remember' he mumbled indistinctly. He felt sick to his stomach. A part of him knew this was wrong and that he should fight, but the mastery of Edgar's hypnotism was too strong and he could do nothing but succumb.

'Good. You remember nothing. You are no-one. Don't move.' Edgar said, reinforcing his suggestions.

Deftly, he reached up and ripped the white dressing away from the brunet's neck, exposing the deep slash that the prisoners had made those few days ago. Carefully, Fisher took out a pocket knife and exposed one of the sharp blades and almost lovingly, he snicked at a couple of the stitches holding the lips of the wound together. Starsky hissed at the pain, but remained still as Edgar pushed the tip of the knife into the part healed wound, re-opening and watching as the blood started to trickle down the brunet's neck to soak darkly into the white cotton of his tee shirt. Next he took a hold of Starsky's right wrist and slashed across the veins there. Blood sprayed out and Edgar cursed as a spurt caught him on the trouser leg. He stepped back and flicked at the gore, but the red fluid stained his trousers and he left the bloom to be dealt with later.

'You're going to go for a swim David. You're going to walk into the ocean and set off swimming out to sea and you're not going to stop until you can't swim any more. You won't stop; you won't shout for help, you will simply swim. Do you have that?' Edgar said, his voice low and intense. As though to reinforce his lethal command, he held his hand up once again in front of the brunet's face.

Slowly, Starsky put his hand up to his bleeding neck and brought his fingers away coated in his own blood. He looked down dispassionately at his bleeding wrist and then back at Edgar. There was a moment's indecision in his eyes and Edgar told him again.

'Swim until you can't swim any more. No turning back, no shouting for help. Repeat it back to me David.'

'Swim. Don't stop. Don't turn back' the brunet's voice was a monotone.

'Good. Now go and carry out my commands, and don't forget, you are no-one and you have no past.'

Starsky turned to face the waves licking the shore. He felt empty – a nobody. A man with no history. A man with no friends. A man with no name. Fatalistically and without stopping, he walked into the water feeling the waves lap at his legs. Deeper he waded until he was forced to start swimming straight out to sea, the sea water biting savagely at the wounds in his neck and wrist. Whichever sharks may be in the area would be alerted by the smell of blood in the water and as Edgar watched the rapidly retreating curly head bobbing between the waves, he hoped that the big fish would finish off the job he'd just started.

While the brunet with no name swam with quiet, deliberate strokes out into the ocean, Edgar Fisher smiled, walked back to his car, put the radio on, and drove away.

_End of part one._

_Part two starts tomorrow_


	24. Chapter 24

**Part 2 – Chapter 24**

The moonlight shone from the white crests of the waves as they threatened to swamp the curly headed man as he tried to forge his way through the water. The man with no name swam doggedly, tiredly, unsure why he was swimming and unaware of where he was swimming to. All he knew for sure was that he'd been told to swim until he could swim no more and that command seemed more important than life itself.

The salt-water bit at the wounds on his neck and right arm although they had long since stopped bleeding. The cold of the ocean had seen to that and Starsky's body itself was becoming increasingly cold as he forced his way through wave after wave. His teeth chattered in his head and violent shudders ran through his body as the cold leached the warmth from his very bones. When he'd set off on his swim to nowhere, the sea had been fairly calm in the shelter of the cove, the waves playful and small, lapping gently at his body and patting his face like a playful kitten. But as he cleared the headlands on either side of the beach, the waves increased in size. Now he fought to keep his head above the water, but his arms were beginning to feel like lead and he could no longer use the strong, smooth front crawl stroke to propel himself along.

Always a strong swimmer, his body had at first cut through the water like a hot knife through butter. He was an elegant swimmer, courageous and capable in the water. Mindless of his destination as he was, he'd still taken pride in each stroke, his arms and flashing feet powering him through the waves as he settled into a steady rhythm of two strokes and then a breath. His previous injuries however, put paid to him keeping that progress up for very long. His cracked ribs started to pierce his side with knife edged pains and his recent loss of blood caused him to tire fast. He'd only just come out of the hospital. He should have been resting in the quiet and comfort of a bedroom, but instead, he was swimming out into the ocean as though his life depended on it.

The only light out amongst the waves came from the full moon shining overhead and the twinkle of stars. Rolling over onto his back to take a breath and ease his cracking arm muscles, Starsky stared up at the huge sky above him, his body buffeted by the waves and his face wetted by the spray crashing over him. The stars in all their myriad beauty shone down on him, twinkling in the clear night air. He blew the residue of the spray from his lips and took another breath. The man in the moon smiled down, mocking him. At least the man in the moon had a name. The man in the sea had no such luxury. Instead he had an aching void where his memories had been, erased by the simple commands of one Edgar Fisher. The void and the emptiness drove him on, the only true memory that he had left to him being those words echoing around his empty head. "Swim and don't stop swimming". The sound of Fisher's voice sounded loud in his head still and any thought of disobeying was unconscionable. Edgar had told him to obey. He'd let the man down once and this was his punishment. He wouldn't let him down a second time.

With a groan, he turned back onto his belly and tried to swim again, but his injured side didn't permit his preferred easy crawl stroke any more. Each movement of his arm over his head caused a pain so severe that it took his breath away and so with dogged determination to carry out Fisher's commands, Starsky started a slow and laboured breastroke, striving to keep his head out of the water long enough to take a breath when his lungs burned from lack of oxygen.

The waves continued to mount. Although from the deck of a ship, or even from the safety of a rowing boat they would seem puny and small, to the curly haired, injured man in the water, each seemed to be the size of Mount Everest, a mountain to be attacked head on, to climb, to crest and to float down the opposite side. As each wave drove at him, however, his strength failed so that after another half an hour of struggling though the waves, his arms and legs refused to obey the signals from his brain any more. While the spirit was strong, his damaged body was too weak and Starsky's breath rasped in his throat as he heaved his head clear of the water to gasp for another breath. The oncoming wave caught him unawares and flooded his mouth. He gagged, choked and coughed trying to clear his lungs of the water and another wave hit him on the side of the head.

Crying out in frustration, the brunet rolled over onto his back again, desperate to find some comfort in the freezing watery wilderness. Above him the cold white light shone down on him and highlighted the foamy tops of the white horses that threatened to swamp him. He needed to rest. He needed to allow his body time to recover from the constant movement and struggle. He needed to be warm and sleep. He needed to be home.

Where was home? Did he have a home? For a moment, the curly haired wanderer allowed himself to try to think about that question. Who was he? Did he have a name? He must have a name, he couldn't get through life without one. The emptiness in his head mocked him and he concentrated harder on that one question. What was his name? A pain arced across his forehead, so sudden and powerful that he tried to avoid it and in his haste, he ducked his head down to his chest, his nose buried in the cold water. Gasping he righted himself and his left hand went to his head, massaging his brow and cradling the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. 'Noooooooo' he yelled into the darkness. 'Fuck, noooo.'

_Shit...hurts. Hurts...God it hurts!_

Muffling a forlorn sob, the brunet trod water for a while. He'd never felt so alone in all his life. Not only was there not a soul around, but he had no thoughts of people in his head. It was as though he was the only person left alive in the world and unbidden the words of a song sprung into his head. 'The Only Living Boy in New York'. Where had that come from? How come he could remember that and nothing else? Who the hell was he? Struggling to remain afloat, Starsky's arms flailed at the water around him and his legs kicked automatically as his survival instincts took over from his conscious thoughts.

The shore had long since disappeared and now he was alone in the middle of an inky blue, cold and wet world. The water sapped the life from his body and felt like a vice around his chest, clamping him close and stopping him from breathing properly. The ache in his side was dulled by the cold of the water and even the pain from the cut on his arm had abated somewhat. Looking around him, Starsky tried to make out where land was, and where he should be heading. His instructions, from wherever they came, said to swim out to sea, but he couldn't decide which way he should be swimming now. The waves obscured his view and he couldn't heave himself out of the water far enough to get a good look around him.

He rested for a little while longer. It would be so easy to give in. it would be wonderful to stop struggling and go to sleep. Idly, he wondered what drowning would be like. He'd heard that it was a peaceful way to go and yet out here, alone in the cold and wet, it didn't seem very peaceful. It seemed hellish and the water constantly clogging the back of his throat gave him a taste of what it would be like when finally his exhausted muscles could take it no more and allowed his body to dip for a final time below the surface. Try as he might to rest, though, before long his programming kicked in again and he rolled back onto his belly, his arms moving leadenly though the water.

Unbeknown to Starsky, he was swimming round in circles and the tide, that had been ebbing when he walked into the surf was now turning and floating him inexorably down the coast, south and back towards land. Kicking his heavy legs once more, the brunet started to swim again but had only gone a few yards before exhaustion overtook him. In frustration he yelled out again at the sea, the moon and the stars.

'Let me go. For Gods sake let me go!'

The words were ripped from his mouth and flung away by the breeze playing over the waves. Starsky's legs stopped their kicking for a moment and his head disappeared below the surface. Gasping he flailed his arms and brought himself to the surface, shaking his head wearily as his chocolate coloured curls clung wetly to his forehead and the surplus water coursed down his face. The water gurgled sickeningly in his ears and once again, his body threatened to dip below the surface.

Tired.

So very tired.

So weary he wanted to give up and embrace the cold wetness one final time. The conditioning imposed on his mind, however refused to allow him to give up. Just once more cruel trick Edgar Fisher had imposed on him and deep down Starsky knew that he would fight to the very end of his life. He allowed himself to float on his back, the waves rocking him and slapping at his body. His skin had been wet so long that it was rough as sandpaper, his fingertips wrinkled and devoid of any sensation.

Supersensitive and yet unresponsive.

Slowly but surely his body was shutting down from the cold and weariness overtook him.

Starsky allowed his eyes to drift closed. If he tried hard enough he could blot out the cold. It was an inconvenience now, more than a pain across his chest. His core temperature was lowering to meet the ambient temperature of the ocean around him. With the cessation of shivering came a wonderful period of warmth, despite the fact the Starsky knew that he should feel chilled to the bone. With a sigh, he allowed himself to be carried away on the feelings of comfort, his lithe, muscular body sinking slowly so that only his face showed above the water, pale and pasty and ghostly white.

A final thought passed through Starsky's mind as he felt the sea begin to suck him below the surface. He should have someone he should be saying goodbye to, but he couldn't remember. He felt an overwhelming feeling of sadness that no-one would mark his passing and no-one would mourn for him.

Maybe this was for the best.

Maybe he would be one less useless mouth to feed in the world.

With a last conscious breath, the brunet allowed himself to sink below the waves and opened his eyes to watch the moon wavering through the water and getting smaller and more distant as he plunged down into the depths.

Enough.

Too many struggles.

Goodbye.

Darkness overcame the curly haired man and he held it to him, feeling the start of the final burn on his lungs. Despite yearning for the hurting to stop, his body automatically kicked upwards one last time and with a cry of rage, his head broke the surface. Opening his mouth to take a final huge breath, Starsky suddenly felt something grab a hold of his sodden collar and pull him upwards. His body felt as though he were being pulled up to heaven and his waterlogged lungs gave a final gurgle before he blacked out.

On board the small boat, Juanita and Miguel Cortez hauled the limp and bedraggled body of the man over the gunwale and dropped him gently into the bows. As Miguel rolled him onto his back, the young woman put her head on the strangers chest and listened. The lungs gurgled beneath her ear and she could find no sign of breathing and with a care born of desperation she shuffled around until she was knelt by the curly haired man's side and leaned over. Gently but firmly she pinched his nose, tilted his head back and sealed her lips over his cold ones, breathing air into his waterlogged chest. She raised her head, took a breath and repeated the manoeuvre, watching the rise and fall of the man's chest.

Again, she breathed into his mouth, his lips frigid against hers, but as she rose again, she saw an almost imperceptible twitch of his hand and she looked down into his face.

Starsky felt soft lips cover his and for a moment wondered if all angels kissed their new recruits at the pearly gates. His felt water in the back of his throat and gagged on the salty taste, the splutter turning into a full blown coughing episode. The brunet felt hands roll him over onto his side and he spat sea water out onto the wooden boards of the bottom of the boat. He wretched until he had nothing else to purge from his system and finally, with a rasping groan, he collapsed back onto his back, panting.

'Senior?'

'Senior?'

Starsky's eyebrows drew together in concentration. Not English! His numbed mind fumbled for the right words. '¿Habla Inglés?' he managed to gasp

The young woman cradled his head in her lap and her older brother knelt in the bottom of the boat by his side. '¿De dónde eres?' she said softly, caressing his salt laden curls with slim fingers.

'Soy de...de los... Estados Unidos' the injured man muttered. '¡Es...una em...emergencia! Necesito un mmmédico.' Weakly Starsky struggled to sit up his conditioning still ringing in his ears. 'Lemme go….should swim….need t'swim' he mumbled.

The woman looked up at her brother and rattled a string of Mexican off before turning her attention back to the handsome bedraggled man and pushing him easily back down onto her lap. 'Me llamo Juanita. Rest...you are safe now. ¿Cómo te llamas?'

Starsky tried to smile back up at her. 'Me llamo...me...' as he tried to think about his name, a flare of agony shot through his head and he cried out, arching back from the wooden boards at the bottom of the boat. The pain, added to the exhaustion from his titanic swim was enough to plunge Starsky into unconsciousness and as his eyes slid closed and he lay back with a groan, Juanita's brother took a hold of the oars and pulled for shore.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

'You are not on this case Hutchinson, and that's final' Dobey's voice thundered down the telephone at him and Traff, who'd been in the kitchen and could hear him distinctly could imagine the big black man dabbing at this face with his big white hanky.

'I need to be. Edgar Fisher has taken my partner. You heard my report. You know exactly what he's done to him in the past. God knows what he's doing to him now' Hutch yelled back.

'Hutchinson, you are off the case. Do you understand that? Off. The. Case. How much clearer can I make it?'

'Why? Explain it to me Cap'n, coz until you do, I don't think you're thinkin' straight.'

There was a moment's pause as the bluff insubordination was processed down the line and then, amazingly, Dobey's voice softened. 'For two reasons. First, you care too much and you're too close to this case.'

'All the more reason for me to be on it' Hutch snapped back insistently. Dobey let it ride.

'And second because you're still sick son. And sick cops are usually dead cops before the day is out. You said it yourself. Edgar Fisher is dangerous. Yes, it looks like he's taken Starsky. Do you really think that me, or your partner would want you getting' shot up all over again because you were too damned close to stay put and let others handle the investigation?'

The mention of Starsky's name sent visions of curly hair, wicked deep blue eyes and goofy grins flitting through Hutch's mind. Starsky! Damn, he'd been through enough already. They both had. Fisher might have programmed the brunet, but Hutch still suffered alongside him. The blond's shoulders slumped in defeat.

'I need to do something. I need to be out there lookin' Cap'n.'

'You need to rest son. As soon as I know anything I'll tell you, honest. I have an APB out on Fisher and Starsky and we have a good description and the photo taken from the dust cover of Fisher's book. There's upwards of 200 cops got their eyes peeled on the lookout for him. Someone will find him. Dammit, with that sort of coverage, if someone sneezes on 5th Street we're gonna know about it.'

'But they aren't me. I need to…' Hutch tried one last time.

'You need to calm down and rest. I'll phone when we have something. And believe me Hutchinson, we will have something.' The phone went dead and Hutch stood with his forehead pressed against the wall as he wearily replaced the receiver. Behind him, he felt a body and turned to see Traff holding a cup of hot herbal tea out. Hutch took it, smiling weakly.

'Could have done with beer' he said tonelessly.

'You could have done with staying in bed, but as you don't seem to be able to follow orders, at least sit down for a while huh?' the soldier said gently leading his buddy to the sofa. Hutch sat down and sipped at the drink.

'I should be doing something' he reiterated unnecessarily.

'You should do what the man said and rest. When they find Fisher and get Curly back you're gonna need all your strength then.'

'You heard him say that?'

Traff grinned. 'Your Captain would have made a good Sergeant Major. He has a voice like a foghorn! Yeah, I heard him. He talks sense Hutch. You are too close to this. When they find Edgar, you want this done by the book. You want to make sure he don't have a single loop hole he can wriggle through because if you can prove what he did to Starsky and what he made Starsky do to you, you're gonna hit paydirt. Think about it. Done right, you can nail him for attempted murder, kidnap, assault on Starsky and the murders of those poor kids in the children's home.'

Piercing crystal eyes looked back at the soldier and for a moment Traff thought that Hutch was going to launch into a long tirade. Instead, the blond snorted softly. 'You'd have made a good cop, you know that.'

The dark haired soldier grinned. 'I'll take that as a compliment, but I think my medical is better!'

'Why did I leave him Traff?'

'Huh?'

Hutch rested his head back and stared at the ceiling. 'Why did I leave him alone at the hospital? I left it wide open for Edgar to take him again, after all he's gone through.'

Silently the soldier came to sit by his friend's side. 'You can't be by his side every minute of the day. He's a big boy. He can look after himself.'

'Is he? Sometimes I wonder.' Hutch's eyes misted over as he thought back to a dimly lit room, a single bed at its centre and a crowd of medical machinery around it. Starsky lay still and quiet at the centre of the contraptions, the machine breathing for him, drips feeding into his arms and a his chest swathed in a white gauze dressing. In those early days after Gunther's men had shot him, Hutch had never dared to touch his partner in case he upset his partner's fragile hold on life. In those early days had been helpless, unable to move talk or even breathe for himself.

Once he'd proved the medics wrong had had made his miraculous recovery, Hutch was once again by his side as he sweated through months of intense physiotherapy and again the blond was reminded just how frail his partner was.

As for being a big boy and able to look after himself? Well yes, there was no one more streetwise, tough and capable of handling himself in a fight. Starsky was genuine, caring, compassionate to all those who were his friends or who needed protection. But to the flake on the street, or to those who tried to prey on the poorer end of society, the brunet could be dangerous. His temper was notorious although he laboured constantly to keep it under control, but when angry; when he really lost it, there was no one meaner, moodier or more dangerous.

Yet while others saw the brash tough exterior, Hutch had seen the other side of his partner. The side that needed a touch, a smile of reassurance and the presence of his partner to get him through life's tough times. While he could certainly look after himself, there were times when Hutch had looked at Starsky and been reminded of a little boy, lost and alone. The blond snickered. 'A big boy huh? Yeah, most of the time.'

Traff nodded. 'Yeah, I know I know. I've seen the other side of him too. But when did you ever know Curly cave in in a crisis? Afterwards maybe, when he's safe, but never when something bad is going down. He'll tough it out with the best of 'em. He'll be fine. Whatever happens, he'll be fine and when we get him back, we're both here to look after him huh? That's when he'll need you to be on top form, so I need you to rest Chief. Got that?'

Hutch nodded. He hadn't known Tom Trafford for as long as Starsky had. The two men had served together in the Army. They'd met during basic training and had been shipped out to 'Nam together. There, they'd been part of a recognisance unit and when Starsky had been held as a guest of the Viet Cong, it had been Traff who had led the rescue attempt.

When Bob Grice had wired his partner up with enough C4 to blow up the city (_see Countdown by this author_), it had been Traff, the bomb disposal expert that had been called in and it had been then that Hutch had been introduced. So like his partner had the soldier been that Hutch had fallen into an easy friendship with Traff right from the beginning.

'I'm glad you're here buddy' he said simply, but with feeling.

'You've been there for me, more than once. Don't get all misty eyed on me there Hutchinson. We still have work to do.'

'Such as?'

'Such as you stop telling me you're ok and start looking after yourself. Why didn't you tell me you had a physiotherapy appointment this morning?'

Hutch blushed. 'Slipped my mind.' The tables were turned. Once upon a time it would have been him berating his partner for not taking his recovery seriously. Now Traff was staring at him hard.

'Forgot huh? Well bozo, having had a similar injury in the past, I kinda know what they do. So. Off with the shirt and lets start getting that shoulder moving huh?'

For the next half hour, Traff worked at Hutch's wounded shoulder gently but firmly until the blond was hot, tired and Traff could tell he was getting past the point where he could stifle the groans. The session came to an abrupt halt when the telephone rang and Traff answered it.

As Hutch tottered into the bathroom feeling like he's just done several more rounds with the Omaha tiger, he could hear the soldier talking and he'd just run the water in the basin when Traff came to the bathroom door.

'Make it quick Chief, Dobey's on the line. Says one of the patrolmen has spotted a man answering Edgar Fisher's description.'

Hutch hurriedly dried himself off and padded quickly into the living room where he grabbed the phone from its resting place on the table.

'Hutchinson. Speak to me.'

'Hutchsinon, Markovitz and Fell have just radioed to say they've followed Fisher's car. He stopped at a Seven Eleven on 3rd and now he's headed into an apartment block off Palm Canyon Road, near the corner of Liberty Way. I said you'd be there, but Hutchinson – no heroics. I shouldn't be telling you this, you're still off duty.'

'I don't care whether I'm off the planet. Thanks Cap, I'm on my way. Oh, and in the mean time, tell Markovitz not to touch Fisher, he's mine.'

'Hutchinson!….Hutch!' Dobey yelled, but Hutch slammed down the phone and turned triumphant to his friend.

'Grab your stuff we're moving. Fisher's gone to ground and we're getting' in on the action.' His pains forgotten, Hutch shouldered with a grimace into his holster, checked his weapon and stuffed his cuffs into his back jeans pocket. Traff snagged the keys to the car and stood by the door.

'You might be capable of doing the Dirty Harry routine Blondie, but we need to get there in one piece. I'm driving.'

With a curt nod, Hutch followed Traff down the steps and out to his car. He slapped the mars light on top and the soldier gunned the engine and set off up the road leaving a stripe of burnt rubber on the black top behind him. The drive over to Liberty was accomplished quickly and as they reached the neighbourhood, Traff doused the lights and sirens. It wouldn't do any good to alert Fisher to their presence too early. Drawing to a halt outside the insignificant looking apartment block Hutch got stiffly out of the car, nodded to Markovitz and Fell and with them as back up and Traff bringing up the rear, they headed into the block.

There was a small reception area and a bored looking concierge on the front desk and Hutch leaned on the counter top, slammed the woman's magazine closed with one hand and glared at her as she raised her head to snap at him.

'Edgar Fisher. Which flat?'

'Who's asking?' she asked

Hutch took his shield from his pocket and flashed the silver badge at her. 'BCPD that's who. Going back to her magazine as though a police raid was an every day occurrence, she mumbled '220c, second floor.'

'Is there an elevator?' the blond asked, realising he didn't really have the strength to be charging up four flights of stairs.

'Corner' the woman pointed without raising her head again.

'Gee thanks' Hutch grunted and made his way to the iron gated elevator carriage.

'When we go in, you three get to Starsky, I'll handle Fisher. And guys, don't talk to him and don't look him in the eyes. He's dangerous ok?' the blond commanded. He received nods of confirmation and stood back as Traff slid the gates open again on the second floor landing.

The walked quietly along the corridor and waited for a moment outside 220c. Hutch stood one side of the door, his Colt in his hand as Fell stood at the other side, his own weapon held ready. Markovitz stood back with Traff as Hutch rapped on the door. 'Bay City PD. Open up' he shouted, expecting no response.

A moment later, however, the door opened and Edgar Fisher's tall, thin frame filled the doorway. He smiled as though he'd been expecting the cops and as Hutch and Fell pushed their way into the flat, he stood back passively.

Traff, Markovitz and Fell immediately fanned out, quickly searching the few rooms, but the apartment wasn't exactly the White House and within seconds they were back in the living room reporting that they'd found no-one.

Hutch glared at Fisher, his eyes boring into the tall man's face.

'What have you done with my partner?' he growled.

Edgar smiled at him 'Too late Detective, he isn't here.'

The blond grabbed hold of Fisher's collar and slammed him back against the wall, leaning into the thin body with the arm holding his gun across Fisher's upper chest.

'You tell me where he is, and you tell me now.'

Fisher remained unfazed, his face a cold featureless mask. 'He isn't here.'

'I can see that, Einstein. Where is her?'

'I have no idea.'

Hutch twitched his arm against Edgar's chest. 'You took him, you admit that.'

'I didn't "take" him, he came with me of his own free will…..well, maybe not free will. Your weak minded partner provided no challenge at all for me. It was like dealing with a kid when I finally got to him. You can tell you had no father figure in his life at all. He was so willing. That's his problem you know, he aims to please all the time.'

Hutch closed his eyes, sickened by Fisher confessions. 'Just tell me where my partner is' he hissed through clenched teeth. 'Why him? Why not me?'

'Because his mind was pliable, yours wasn't. That's what comes of doing homework Detective. Those who've suffered a major trauma, or several in the case of David, like fighting in 'Nam or being shot. They're always so easy to manipulate. Too easy really.'

Hutch's temper flared and he drew back his fist to strike the man. As it started its forward arc, however a strong fist caught it and Hutch's angry eyes fixed on Traff's.

'Don't do this Chief. Take is easy' the soldier said softly.

Hutch's fist relaxed marginally and he stared back at his captive.

'I'm gonna say this once. I want you to tell me where you've taken Starsky and so help me if you've harmed one hair on his head, I'm gonna hunt you down for the rest of your natural life. You're goin' down for so long you'll never see the light of day. Do I make myself clear?'

Edgar smiled infuriatingly. 'Crystal Detective. There's only one slight snag. I have no idea where David is now, truthfully. We took a little ride down to the beach, south of the city and he um….insisted on taking a swim. It was late and dark, but I couldn't stop him. He seemed…..shall we say, compelled? So you see, I can honestly say that I don't know where he is, but I'd hazard a guess that your friend is shark bait now. You should probably start planning his requiem.'

Hutch's grip on Edgar's tall frame slipped, the world dipping sideways as he staggered back as though hit by a freight train. Fisher's words were cold; calculating and they pierced him to his core.

'When? When did he…?'

'Last night. He'll be long gone by now. All alone in the cold, dark ocean. Shame!'

'No' Hutch whispered. 'Oh my God, no.'

Markovitz who was standing behind him managed to catch at the blond as he staggered back and lowered the sweating, shaking blond onto the closest chair.

Traff walked up to Edgar calmly and looked him in the eye. Very slowly and very quietly he hissed 'You think your something special, but you're not. We've got you and now we're gonna nail you good and proper. Got that? Take him away boys.'

Fell and Markovitz cuffed the passive man whose eyes never left Hutch and as they walked him away, he looked back over his shoulder.

'He's dead. Forget him. I bet he's forgotten you.'

Hutch moaned his head in his hands as the two uniformed cops took Fisher away. Traff hunkered down at the side of his buddy, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'C'mon chief. Lets' get you back home.'

Pain filled crystal eyes met emerald greens. 'He's not dead Traff. I'd know. I'd feel it. Take me to the beach huh? There's gotta be clues. We just need to find 'em.'

Seeing the steely glint in the blond's eyes and knowing Hutch wouldn't rest until he'd seen the beach and the ocean, Traff helped his buddy to his feet and together they walked slowly from Edgar Fisher's house. As they passed the bedroom door on the way out, they paused and hitched a breath at the sight. Plastered all over the walls were colour pictures of pin up men and boys, mostly naked and all tanned and oiled and posed, obviously cut from magazines. Nestling in the middle of them, Polaroid pictures showing Starsky outside his apartment were pinned giving testament to the fact that Fisher had been watching the brunet for some time.

Hutch closed his eyes and staggered against Traff. Had it not been for the soldier's strong arm around his waist he would have fallen. 'Bastard' he spat as his friend helped him from the flat.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Traff helped Hutch down to the car, supporting his friend as best he could. Opening the car door, he allowed the blond to slump into the front seat. Hutch looked small, wasted, the colour he'd regained after the shooting having been leeched once again from his face. He showed pain, sadness, anger and desperation on his face and in his body language and the soldier ached for his friend, his own mind racing, thinking about what was happening to his own buddy. Gently, Traff nudged Hutch to put his legs inside the car and trotted round to the driver's side. He got in and sat for a moment.

'Hutch. Buddy. I know you're hurting, but it aint no point going down to the beach. Fisher isn't lying, I know he isn't. If he can force Starsky to shoot you, his best friend, he can have enough control over Curly to make him swim out to sea to drown himself. Why the beach? Why torture yourself huh?'

'Coz I have to do something. I can't just sit here Traff. He's alive, I know he is.'

'Fine. In that case, we call in the experts.'

Hutch's head came up. 'I thought we were the experts. We're the cops aren't we?'

'Well unless you've grown fins and can suddenly breathe under water, I was thinkin' more along the lines of calling in the coastguard.'

The blond's face brightened at the suggestion and his hand reached for the mic. calling the shout into the local coastguard station. That done, he sat back in the seat. 'OK, they're sending out a chopper. I told 'em where to contact me. Now drive me down to the Metro.'

Traff shook his head. 'No. Hutch, no buddy. You've been through enough. You're not fully healed, I don't want you having to handle that shit. Fisher knows how to push your buttons, let Dobey and the others handle things for a while.'

'I can't. How the fuck can I sit at home when I know that Starsky is alone in the sea somewhere. What's he gonna be like? What's he gonna think huh?'

'And how is flyin off to the Metro gonna help huh?' Traff asked.

'Coz that flake Fisher might have some more information to help find my partner. I'm sorry Traff. I know it's irrational, but I can't just sit and do nothin'. I have to be there. I need to do somethin'. Please? Just drive.'

Reluctantly, Traff started the engine and put the car in gear, driving carefully downtown and pulling up in Starsky's customary spot outside the front of the police headquarters. The soldier got out and walked around to the passenger side of the car and winced as he heard the subdued groan as Hutch eased himself out of the car. The blond was holding himself stiffly, his left arm wrapped around his waist, giving some support after he refused to wear his sling any more. Traff tried again. 'You're tired buddy. Let me take you home. Dobey can handle this.'

Hutch straightened himself and squared his shoulders. 'I said I'm fine' he grunted and pushed past his friend into the building.

Once inside, he turned left down the corridor instead of right to go up to the squad room and at the foot of the steps leading down to the incident rooms, he saw the custody sergeant. Sgt. Barnes got up from his desk and stood by the side of his small table. 'Hutch? How're you?' he asked pleasantly.

'Been better Jake. I need to get down to the interview rooms. Have they brought Edgar Fisher in yet?'

The uniformed man's eyes narrowed. 'Um no...he's on his way. Um Hutch... I um... Dobey phoned ahead and told me not to let you down there.'

'What?'

'I'm sorry. But he gave very clear orders, I haven't to let you down to the interview rooms.'

'Fuck it! Jake, for God's sake. The flake had my partner. He made him...he knows what he did to Starsky. If not for me, let me down there so that I can find out what he did to Starsk huh?' Hutch's eyes bored into the officer's and for a moment it looked as though the man would waiver. At that second however, the three men hear footsteps and muted voices coming along the corridor. Hutch turned and his voice hardened as he saw Fisher cuffed between Markovitz and Fell with Dobey and Yamato bringing up the rear.

'Fisher!' At his side, Traff put a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder as he felt Hutch move forward. 'Blondie no' he warned softly.

'Let me at him. Fisher! You tell me an' you tell me now where Starsky is.' Shaking Traff's hand off, he lunged forward and Markovitz and Fell closed ranks in front of their prisoner. Fisher remained unfazed and stood quietly between his two guards, a small smile on his face as he watched the blond struggle. Barnes and Traff took a hold of Hutch's arms and held the angered flaxen haired cop back as his face reddened and he strove to land a punch on the sanctimonious prisoner.

'Tell me! Tell me now' he yelled as he continued to struggle. As Markovitz turned to take Fisher down the steps, Hutch caught a glimpse of the dark stain on Edgar's trousers. He redoubled his efforts and Barnes and Traff had their work cut out restraining him without hurting him too much.

'That's blood on your pants. Is it Starsky's blood? Did you hurt him? What the fuck did you do to him ya mad bastard?'

From behind his human shield Fisher grinned briefly at the angered blond. 'Calm yourself Detective. It's no use getting excited.'

'I'll do more than excited. I'll knock that fuckin' smile off your face.'

'That would be police brutality.'

'You don't know the half of it' Hutch growled. 'Tell me. What did you do to him?'

Edgar's face was an impassive mask as he glared at Hutch, his watery blue eyes boring into the blond's soul. 'I tenderised him! I had to make sure the sharks got their breakfast.'

'Nooo, you bastard, I'm gonna kill ya. I swear you're never gonna live past the trial' Hutch yelled, almost sobbing in his rage as Traff wrestled him away from the small posse. Markovitz and Fell escorted their prisoner down to the interview rooms while Dobey stayed back. Traff had Hutch up against the wall, leaning into the blond's body with his own in an attempt to restrain him without hurting him too much. A small bloom of blood started to appear on Hutch's left shoulder and he grimaced in pain and frustration.

'Let me at him. Let me at him, I'm gonna...'

'You're gonna do nothin' other than go back to the hospital and get that sorted out. Hutchinson, I know you're hurting. We all are, but you aren't doin' yourself or Starsky any favours behavin' like this. Cool it. Let us handle Fisher. Traff make sure he gets to Memorial huh?'

Hutch sagged against the soldier's body and cautiously Traff let up the pressure some, allowing Hutch to breathe a little easier. The blond's eyes closed, his anger making him shake and the pain and weakness that were the residual effects of his shooting finally breaking through the adrenaline fuelled anger.

Desperately and wearily he fixed his Captain with pain filled eyes. 'Just make him talk huh? Make him tell you what he did to Starsk. He aint dead Cap. I can feel it. I know he's still alive. We have time to find him still, we just need to know where to look.'

OOoOoOoOoOoOo

'Has he woken up yet?' Miguel looked over his sister's shoulder at the sleeping man.

'No. He has a fever. He was restless for a while but now he's very quiet and still. I'm worried Miguel. He has many injuries, but some of them look older, as though he's been in a fight a while ago. I wish we could get a doctor for him.'

'I wish we could afford a doctor for us, let alone him. You're doing all the right things. Just try to keep him cool and see if you can get him to drink something.'

Juanita nodded. 'I bandaged the cuts on his arm. They looked deep, as though someone had done them deliberately. I don't think they're infected though. The one on his neck had some stitches in there already. That's one good thing about the salt water, it has kept them clean.'

'Si. I wonder how long he was swimming for? He seemed as though he wanted to keep on going.'

'He wouldn't have been able to. He's exhausted' the young woman replied sadly. 'I wonder what your name is?' she muttered to herself as her brother went back out of the small lean-to at the back of his motor car garage and back to work. She brushed her hand through the man's curls and thought back to the previous night.

When they'd found the man out in the dark of the ocean, they immediately hauled him on board their small boat. Miguel went out fishing most nights to supplement the food bought by the money he earned from fixing the cars brought to his small one-man garage. It had been a miracle that they'd found the stranger at all. Only the moonlight reflecting from his pale face had alerted them to his presence and once on board, Juanita had panicked at finding that he wasn't breathing.

She'd once attended a talk on artificial respiration. A man had come to the small school she taught at and said it was important for the children who lived in San Carlos, their small village by the sea to learn how to perform the life saving task. Thankful that she'd paid attention, Juanita was delighted when the curly haired man had coughed, spluttered and then started to breathe on his own, but his eyes, when he'd opened them were wild, terrified and the few words he'd managed to speak in halting Spanish made little sense. Eventually, his exhaustion and his injuries had plunged him once more into unconsciousness and he'd remained insensate ever since.

Miguel and Juanita had rowed the boat back to the shore and had half carried, half dragged the man from the beach to the small garage. They had no room in their small house to accommodate him, but the lean to was dry and warm and had an old sofa in it. The woman had stripped off the man's sodden clothes, gasping at the cuts and bruises and swellings on his body. Miguel had held the stranger up while she'd toweled him dry and then the two of them had managed to lay him naked but warm beneath an old, soft blanket. While Miguel had gone to get some sleep, Juanita had stayed up with the man all night, soothing him when he cried out incoherently and bathing his forehead with cool cloths when his fever spiked. Towards morning, however, he had fallen silent, and had remained that way ever since.

Getting up from her chair stiffly, the young schoolteacher stretched her back, thankful it was Saturday and there was no school to teach that day. She stood at the door of the garage and looked out up the dust covered street. Children played football in the dirt, a dog sat scratching on the corner and Senior Ortega revved the engine of his truck before pulling away and heading out to Mesa Verde. Ordinary Saturday morning activities. Ordinary lives.

Turning back to her patient, she was amazed to see that his eyes were open and staring at her. She walked back to him and knelt by the side of the bed.

'Buenos dias senior. How do you feel today?'

The man regarded her for a moment. 'Tired' he rasped. 'Sore.'

'You have many injuries and you have a fever. But I think you may still get better. Are you thirsty?'

'Yeah.'

Gently, Juanita raised his head and held a cup of cool water to his lips. The man sipped appreciatively but the movement sapped his energy and within seconds he'd had enough. Resting back on the pillow he looked at the pretty woman.

'Where am I?' Starsky asked, his voice weak and rasping.

'San Carlos, on the border.'

'You found me?'

'Yes. My brother and I brought you back here.'

The brunet smiled gratefully, the aches in his body making him feel tired. He felt hot and he could feel the fever beginning to spike again in his body. His eyes burned and he felt nauseous.

'Thank you?' he managed to gasp leaving the question of her name hanging in the air.

'Juanita. Juanita Cortez. De nada. And what is your name senior?'

Starsky closed his eyes for a second, his lips beginning to form a word before a pain arced across his forehead causing him to cry out and grasp at his head. 'I'm… my name is…. is….shit. What is my name?' he asked in a panicky voice. 'I don't remember. I don't remember who I am.' Starsky grabbed a hold of Juanita's hand 'I don't remember anything….. help me.'


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Juanita spent some time with the strange man. Starsky's pain clouded indigo eyes looked around him wildly as he tried to come to terms with where he was. His head was achingly empty, his mind a void into which he could only deposit the last few hours of memories. Anything before being picked up from the ocean was a blank and try as he might he couldn't pierce the inky blackness of that void. In fact when he did try to think back to life before the ocean, a terrible pain would arc across his forehead leaving him writhing in agony on the bed, his hands gouging at his eyes in an attempt to achieve some sort of relief.

Juanita tried her best to soothe the man, shushing him as she would a small child, for that's how he seemed to be - a small child afraid of the ghosts under the bed. Starsky's eyes flashed open and she saw crescents of the deepest blue beneath his black shadowed lids. Several times he tried to tell her his name, his lips striving to form a word that seemed familiar to him and yet when a name seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, he would arch his back from the bed and scream out in pain.

'I can't...can't remember' he gasped. 'Why can't I remember? My name is.. is…my name is…fuck! Gotta have a name ... a past. Help me.'

'Shhh. You will remember in time senior. You just need to rest. Maybe you had a blow to your head. Maybe something in the water affected you. I don't know, but you must try to relax. You must try to rest and it will all be better soon.

'How'm I supposed to rest if I can't remember who I am?' Starsky muttered bitterly. 'Don't even have a name.'

Juanita looked at him critically seemingly sizing him up. 'If a name is what you seek, what about Matt? I like that and I think it suits you.'

'Matt?'

'Si. It's short and has a nice ring to it, I think, and I suppose it's better than "hey you" until your memory returns.'

Starsky considered the name. Matt. Was he a Matt? He didn't feel any attachment to that name, but there again, he couldn't think of any name he did feel an attachment to. He nodded wearily. 'Fine. Matt it is.'

'And now, Matt, you should sleep. It seems to me you've lost a lot of blood and you have lots of bruises and cuts. Maybe someone fought with you? Drink some more water and then try to rest huh? I will be nearby. I won't leave you alone.'

_Rest buddy…. Aint goin' nowhere._ Another voice from another time and place cut through his blackness. It seemed an achingly familiar velvety voice and he felt he should know it, and yet there was no name or face to the voice and when he tried to think, the pain returned, doubled in force. With a whimper, Starsky closed his eyes and swallowed down his fear.

'K…..sleepy. Thank you.'

Starsky lay back on the bed, his eyes already slipping closed as his exhaustion and fever overtook him once more. Soon his dreams took a hold of him, and although all were painful in some degree, there was a recurrent figure throughout them all. Starsky stood on a beach looking out to sea. Behind him two men stood talking. One was thin to the point of being skeletal. The thin man had lank dirty blond hair and a beak nose between hooded cold grey eyes. The thin man pointed out at the waves and Starsky felt compelled to walk into the ocean and to start swimming. As he began to plunge into the sea however, the other man called out to him although the wind gusted and Starsky couldn't hear the other man's voice or what he was saying. He stopped for a moment up to his waist in the cold water and looked back.

The other man was also tall, although better built than thin man. The second man had a head of flaxen coloured hair cut short and topping a handsome golden face. Strong arms reached out to Starsky, the golden man trying to recall him to land and for a moment Starsky turned back. As the thin man compelled him to swim out to sea, the golden man also had a pull on him. The golden man's face smiled at him and when he looked at it, Starsky had a feeling of warmth friendship and, yes, love. He wanted to obey the golden man as much as he felt compelled to obey the thin man, but thin man's hold over him was colder and stronger.

With a final sad wave, Starsky followed thin man's commands and once again turned to start his lonely swim out to sea. He could feel rather than see the golden man's pull and knew for sure that he was trying to get Starsky to return to shore, but the brunet's arms and legs seemed unable to obey and soon he was out in the middle of the ocean on his own, his mind empty, his body aching and the cold snatching at the strength he had left.

In his sleep, Starsky moaned and thrashed his head on the pillow and Juanita was back at his side in a moment, placing a cool cloth on his forehead and running her hand gently down the side of his face. Matt/Starsky seemed to relax a little at the touch and the woman continued talking to him in low tones, knowing instinctively that the words meant nothing, but that her voice would cut through her patient's loneliness and despair and finally Matt/Starsky slept more quietly.

OOoOoOoOoOoOo

Traff took Hutch back to the car and made sure he was once again safe inside. The drive to Memorial wasn't long - it was just around the block from the Metro and the young intern on ER duty was not impressed that the blond was back in his department so soon after his initial visit.

'What is it with you cops? Don't you know the meaning of "take it easy"? How did this happen?' he asked, easing the blood stained material away from the wound on Hutch's chest to reveal the bullet wound, reopened and seeping ruby fluid.

'Can you fix it?' Hutch asked distractedly.

'I can fix anything but a broken heart, but I don't take kindly to cops messing up our handiwork' the medic sniped.

Hutch met his eyes with a piercing crystal gaze. 'I came to get stitched up. If I'd wanted a lecture, there's the school down the street. Now fix me up an' I'll be outa your hair ok?' he snapped.

The intern was obviously not used to having his patients answer back and it looked for a moment as though he was going to walk out of the cubicle. Instead, he bit back the retort and set to cleaning the wound and inserting another three stitches into it to hold it together. When he'd finished he taped another clean white bandage over it and walked out without another word. From the corner of the small room Traff grinned.

'Wow, how to win friends and influence people. You've got a real way with you when you need, huh?'

'He needed takin' down a peg or two. When he's worked in the ER for a while longer he'll come to understand just what cops have to put up with. So as long as Dr Kildare there has finished...' Hutch shouldered back into his shirt with a barely stifled hiss '... we can be on our way.'

'Great. At least you're gonna take his advice and rest?' the soldier asked as he followed Hutch out of the cubicle.

'No, now we're gonna get the latest from the coastguard.'

'No. Hutch no.' Traff stopped still and the blond looked back at him in surprise.

'No?'

'No. I've ferried you round all day Chief. I've watched you gettin' weaker and' weaker and more an' more tired and I've said nothin'. But there comes a time when you have to listen to your body. Hutch... buddy. Look at yourself. Your face is grey, you're swaying on your feet and you can hardly keep your eyes open. You need to sleep, or at the very least you need to rest. I'm not taking you anywhere but home.'

'Fine. gimme the keys an'...'

'And nothing. I mean it buddy. D'ya want me to knock you out and drive ya home? I will do, if that's what it takes, believe me. If...when we find Curly, you're gonna want to be well enough to look after him. And that don't equate to running yourself ragged now. Dobey has the interview covered, the coastguards are out lookin' and if they find anything they'll let us know. Short of hiring a motor boat and doin' your own search, there aint a whole lot else you can do at the moment is there?'

Hutch's shoulders slumped in defeat. In truth he wondered himself just how much longer he could keep on going. His shoulder and chest were a scarlet blaze of agony, his head thumped in time with his heartbeat and his tongue felt as though it were covered in carpet. He leaned heavily against the wall and sighed. 'Fine, we go home. For a few hours, and then we start to search again, ok?'

Traff nodded. 'Good. A few hours shut eye for both of us will do very well. C'mon ya big lug, lets get ya home huh?'

Together the two men made their way out and back to the car. Traff drove them both home although neither of them spoke much, each consumed by their own thoughts but finally they pulled up outside Venice Place and Traff leaned over and prodded the blond who had fallen asleep almost the minute the engine had started.

'Hey, home again. Wakey wakey.'

Hutch jumped and opened his eyes. With a grunt of pain he looked around blearily and then without a word got himself out of the car and both he and Traff tottered up the steps to his apartment. While Hutch showered, careful not to wet his clean dressing on his shoulder, Traff poured a couple of cold beers. Hutch got himself dressed again and with a towel round his neck emerged from the shower. The soldier's turn for the bathroom came next and when he appeared after his own shower, damp and with water droplets pearling in his curls, Hutch was fast asleep on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and TV remote in the other.

Gently the soldier tapped his buddy on the shoulder. 'Blondie, wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?'

Hutch was dead to the world and didn't even stir as Traff tried to wake him. So peaceful did he look that finally with a shrug, Traff took the bottle from his hand and laid it and the remote down on the table. He padded into the bedroom and removed a cover from the bed, wrapped it around the blond and then tiptoed into back to the bedroom and lay down on the bed himself. With the door open, he felt sure he'd hear when Hutch finally awoke. Then he could swap places and make sure Hutch got some quality sleep.

Maybe four or five hours later, a crick in his neck awoke the blond from his sleep. He'd dreamed constantly of his partner, but Starsky was always in the distance, just out of reach and Hutch strove constantly to catch up with his buddy who had always either just crested a hill, or turned a corner.

Waking with a start, Hutch looked around his darkened apartment. For a moment he thought he was alone, but then he heard a gentle snoring from his bedroom. With a hiss, he prised himself up off the sofa, eased out the kink in his back and neck and looked in on Traff. The soldier was sound asleep, his arms flung wide as if inviting someone into an embrace. There was a small smile on his lips and for a second Hutch stood and watched him. He was eternally grateful to the man for sticking around and helping him, first with Starsky's imprisonment and now with the search for his buddy. It seemed a shame to wake him, and yet Hutch felt jumpy and restless, needing to be on the move. Always Starsky had been the one to want action, while Hutch had taken time to think and plan their investigations, but now Hutch had a gut feeling that he should be searching – that he needed to find something – some evidence that would help to nail Edgar Fisher. It may not bring his partner back, but it would be some retribution against the evil teacher.

Hurriedly scribbling a note, he laid it on the bedside table beside the sleeping soldier and then took his car keys from the hall stand, grabbed his gun and shield and set off in his car over to Edgar Fisher's apartment.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The blond cop eased himself gently into his car and put the keys in the ignition. Putting the selector into drive he eased the battered brown LTD into motion and drove quietly away from his apartment into the night. His mind was made up and he was clear in his intentions. He needed to find answers and even if, at this stage, those answers didn't help to locate his partner, then at least they would start the ball rolling in the prosecution of Edgar Fisher.

Hutch looked at his watch. Ten after midnight. He'd been asleep for maybe four hours and felt rested and eager to do some good honest policing. Although his healing body rebelled against the movements involved in driving the car, it felt good to be going somewhere under his own power again instead of relying on Traff or someone else to ferry him around. The doctor had said that he shouldn't be driving for at least another month, but he'd had his share of doctors - they were overly careful at the best of times, terrified of being sued. Hutch had begun to understand just how frustrated Starsky had felt when he'd been gunned down by Gunther's bullets and had been beholden to everyone for even the simplest task.

He'd had a taste of that now and hated the feeling of powerlessness.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled the car to a halt outside Edgar Fisher's apartment block. Switching off the engine, he paused for a moment, massaging his shoulder and trying to rid himself of the bone crushing ache that had set into the limb from the movements associated with driving. He snickered to himself. _OK Mr "I know best Hutchinson". Get you ass into gear and go do your thing._ Following his own good advice, Hutch got himself out of the car and walked slowly into the apartment block. At this time of the early morning, there was no one on reception and he took the elevator up to the second floor and padded along the corridor to Edgar Fisher's flat. 220c proclaimed that he'd gotten himself to the right location and he ducked under the yellow and white "Police - do not cross" tape and opened the door to the small place.

Inside sent shivers down his spine for the second time that day. The place seemed to echo it's occupant's demeanour. It was grey. Grey carpet, dirty grey net curtains that had once been white and a sofa and chair that could have been any colour beneath the grime. The living room held the suite, a small television, a hi fi unit much like Hutch's own, a telephone and a dinner table with two chairs. Looking around, Hutch saw nothing that jumped out at him and screamed "Mad hypnotist lives here" and so he braced himself and walked into Edgar's bedroom. As that afternoon, the first thing that struck the flaxen haired cop was the wall covered entirely in glossy, full colour pictures of boys and young men, all naked tanned and oiled and all in provocative poses. The pictures had obviously been trimmed from some Porno magazine and Hutch shivered involuntarily as he saw his partner's pictures nestled amongst the others. Moving closer, the blond saw that they'd been taken through the various windows of Starsky's apartment and showed the curly haired cop cleaning his camera, cooking at his stove and one, disconcertingly taken through his bathroom window that showed him naked, at least from the waist up. Knowing better than to move the evidence, Hutch swallowed down his anger and continued to poke around the room.

There was a small single bed with dirty covers on it and when Hutch flicked back the sheets he saw stains on the bottom sheet showing evidence that Fisher used the pictures not just for eye candy. The blond grimaced in disgust and put the sheets back over the stains, hiding them from view.

Looking around him, Hutch sighed. There seemed nothing there of any interest to him - nothing to provide him with a clue as to where Starsky was and he was about to move back into the living room when his gaze was caught by a small case containing audio tapes. Several of them were pre-recorded tapes of Mozart, Elgar, Bizet and oddly, Bread. There were, however, several other tapes all labelled in neat, round handwriting and Hutch's blood ran cold as he saw four labelled D1, D2, D3 and D4. Could they be what he thought they were? Only one way to find out. Taking them from the small shelf, the blond stared at them as though they might bite him and then headed back into the living room and over to the hi fi unit.

Taking D1 from the cassette case, the flaxen haired man deftly inserted it into the machine and pressed "play", sitting back down on the edge of the chair as he listened to the first tape. There were two distinct voices. One was most definitely Edgar Fisher. He'd recognise that slimy, cold voice anywhere. The second was also familiar and set up a longing in Hutch's heart, although as the tape played on, Starsky's voice took on a zoned out spacey quality to it. Hutch closed his eyes, imagining the two men standing in front of his as the tape played out it's incriminating evidence. He listened for a while as Starsky and Edgar went through greetings and pleasantries. It was obvious that they'd had previous conversations because the brunet seemed unfazed at Edgar ringing him. They seemed to be carrying on a conversation they'd commenced previously.

Starsky - 'H'llo'

Edgar - 'Hello David. Remember me?'

Starsky - 'Yeah.'

Edgar - 'Tell me how the investigation is proceeding. Has Hutch found anything yet?'

Starsky - 'No, but I... he... I can't keep secrets from him.'

Edgar - 'Why not David? Don't you trust me? You should trust me. I'll look after you David. I need you to listen to me. Listen carefully David.'

Starsky - 'I... I don't want to. No... aint right. I...'

Edgar - 'David listen to me voice. The investigation isn't right. The investigation is wrong. I'm innocent. Hutch is wrong. You need to tell him he's wrong. Edgar Fisher has done nothing. Do you understand me? Edgar Fisher hasn't done anything at all and you'll be angry at anyone who says otherwise.'

Starsky - 'But Hutch says...'

Edgar - 'Hutch is wrong. Listen only to me David. Only to me. Hutch is wrong. Repeat it.'

Starsky - 'Hutch is wrong... Edgar Fisher is innocent.'

Edgar - 'That's good David. Well done. Remember your lessons well. Edgar Fisher is innocent and Hutch is wrong. You've done well tonight David. Now rest and in the morning you won't remember who telephoned you.'

The tape ended and Hutch sat with fists balled as he listened to the incriminating evidence. His partner had tried so hard to resist the programming. Starsky's voice had sounded strained and almost in pain as he tried to deny the programming, but Edgar's voice had remained cold and impassive and slowly but surely, the brunet cop had been sucked into the hypnotic state and had succumbed to Edgar's suggestions. Dammit! With shaking hands, Hutch extracted the first tape and inserted tape two. It held much the same sort of conversation, reinforcing the hypnotic suggestion that Edgar was innocent and that everyone who said otherwise was fundamentally flawed and wrong. Although Starsky still fought the programming, he was less sure of himself on the second tape and by the end of it, his voice was a flat monotone as he answered Edgar monsyllabically.

The third tape, when Hutch listened to it, however started to take a far more sinister turn and Hutch found that he could hardly bear to listen to his partner's pained answers to Fisher's evil questions. Several times during the tape the brunet sounded as though he were fighting the urge to break down, and when that happened, Hutch's blood pressure rose another few millibars and his finger nails dug into the palms of his hands until they dug crescent shaped scars into the flesh there. The tape started differently to the other two. This time, Edgar's voice held a note of anger in it and there were no preliminary niceties.

Starsky - 'H'llo, Who is this?'

Edgar - 'Me Edgar. What have you done David? What have you allowed to happen?'

Starsky - 'Don't know. What?'

Edgar - 'Hutch and some of the other cops have been digging too deep David. It's time to take our relationship to the next level. Do you trust me?'

Starsky - 'Yeah, I...I...um I...'

Edgar - 'Not good enough David. You're fighting me all the way here and I'm angry. I want you to listen to me. Hutch is getting close. He's getting in the way.'

Starsky - 'He's my partner - I can't lie to him... can't... he...'

Edgar - 'David listen to my voice. Listen carefully. I'm going to count backwards from three and then you're going to think back to the worst day of your life. What is that David. Tell me truthfully. Tell me now.'

Starsky - 'My Dad ... died... was killed.'

Edgar - When I reach one, you'll be back there, on the day he was killed. You'll relive the moment you found out and you'll tell me about it. Three, you're deeply asleep. Two, you're completely under my control. One, you have no free will. You'll carry out my instructions. And tell me.'

Starsky – sigh 'There's a knock at the door. Mom gets up and she puts her cup down. She looks scared. It's late. Dad went to work a while ago. I hear her open the door and she screams. They all come into the room together. It's Dad's friends from the station. One of them is holding Mom and she's crying. I know it's bad news and I think Dad's in the hospital maybe. Mom is almost hysterical and Nicky is crying. He runs to her and she cuddles him, but I can't move. I know it's bad and I know I have to stay strong for Mom. They tell me Dad was killed in a drive by shooting in Queens. That's his normal patch. They caught the gang, but Dad's dead. He's dead... he aint ever coming back.'

Edgar - 'Re-live how you feel David. Tell me every emotion that's going through your head.'

Starsky – _sniff _'I'm scared. I'm scared for Mom and Nicky an' I'm scared for me. I can feel tears at the back of my eyes but I won't cry. I won't. _Voice breaks_ Not yet. Later, when I'm on my own, but I have to be strong for Mom. I feel empty. I feel like life will never be worth living again. I feel like I'll never be happy again, like the future is just a big black barrier. I'm so scared.'

Edgar - 'Good David. Remember how that felt. I want you to remember those feelings because if you don't do as I tell you. If you don't follow Edgar's instructions, that's how you'll feel for the rest of your life. Never happy. Always scared. Remember that. Hutch is getting too close. I want you to make him back off. Force him to admit that Edgar Fisher had nothing to do with the murders. Can you do that for me? Can you do that David?'

Starsky - 'Edgar Fisher had nothing to do with the murders. Hutch is wrong. Don't let him investigate any more.'

Edgar - 'That's all now David. All for the moment. When I count backward to one, you'll wake and forget this phone call. You'll forget who called you. Three. Two. Goodnight David. One and wake.'

Hutch wiped angrily at a tear wending it's way down his cheek. The fear and loss and shear loneliness in his partner's voice as Edgar had made him relive that terrible time had been almost palpable and the blond wanted nothing more than to grind Fisher's face into the dirt and kill him.

With a sigh, and with trepidation, the blond inserted the fourth tape, noting that it was dated the day before Starsky finally shot him. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit into place. With each successive tape, Edgar Fisher was tightening his grip on the brunet and bending him to his will. No wonder his curly haired partner had been tired, washed out and jumpy. The programming he was unwillingly undergoing would have tested the resolve of a saint. Hesitantly, hutch pressed play and paced the small living room as he listened with growing horror to the fourth tape.

Starsky - 'H'llo'

Edgar - 'It's Edgar. Be quiet and listen to me David. Hutch is too close, he's in the way. He needs to be dealt with.'

Starsky - 'Dealt with? How?'

Edgar - 'You know David, I'm amazed you still question me, after all our conversations. It's disobedient you know. We should work on that some more. By the end of this session, you're going to have no free will left, be assured of that. I'm going to put you to the test to ensure you won't disappoint me tomorrow.'

Starsky - 'I won't disappoint you.'

Edgar - 'Not, this time David, you won't. I want you to listen carefully to my voice. Concentrate on my words. Only on my words and my voice. You'll do exactly as I say. Is that clear David? Exactly as I say. No more questions, no more hesitation. Hutch is no longer your best friend. I'm your best friend now. I'm your alpha and omega David. No one exists but me and you will do anything... anything at all to please me. Repeat that.'

Starsky 'I'll do anything you tell me. No one exists but you. Hutch is wrong. He's isn't my best friend.'

At that point Hutch let out an involuntary cry, the pain and emptiness in his partner's voice being almost too much for him to bear. It was evident that Starsky's mind was rebelling against the programming, but Edgar Fisher was a master hypnotist and had the curly haired cop completely under his control.

Edgar - 'This is your test David. I want you to do everything I say, without question. This is a big test David, and I'll be angry if you disobey me or question me. You wouldn't want me to be upset would you David?'

Starsky - 'No... don't want to disobey.'

Edgar - 'David I want you to hold the telephone to your ear and I want you to unzip your jeans and let them fall to the floor. I want you to sit down on the sofa David and I want you to start stroking yourself. Let me hear you doing that David. Let me hear you gasp as your touch makes you excited and hard. Take it gently David, this is to last. I want to enjoy every moment of this. You wouldn't want to cheat me.'

Starsky - 'I won't cheat on you.'

Edgar - 'I want you to make love to yourself David. I want to hear you stroking yourself until you're hard.'

Starsky -_ 'gasp'_

_Moments of silence pass punctuated by small sighs and moans._

Edgar - 'Are you excited David? Can you feel the tension building in your groin? You sound so husky. You're voice is so full of need. Not like the young boys. You've lasted much longer than they ever did. You're much more fun David – much more entertaining'

Starsky - 'Uh huh. I need to cum. I need to...'

Edgar - 'Not yet David. It's not allowed yet. I want you to hurt. I want this to go on so long that you feel like you're on fire. I want you to plead with me to let you release. Tell me how you feel David.'

Starsky - 'Hurts... so much... feels good...hard. Oh shit... please, please I gotta...'

Edgar - 'Not yet David. Slow down. It's too early yet. Let it last. Let me enjoy this.'

Starsky - 'I need to ... can't hold on. Please let me... I need...fuck, I gotta...'

Edgar - 'Very well David. You've done so well for me. You can release, when I've counted down from three, but not until. After that, you'll clean yourself up and sleep, and in the morning you'll tell Hutch that you want to meet someone at the fairground. When I say Merrygoround, you'll fire your gun at Hutch. Remember.'

Starsky - 'Remember...please. Oh god...please let me...'

Edgar - 'Three. You're excited David. So hard it hurts.'

Starsky - 'Ummmnnnnn.'

Edgar - 'Two, you're so close now. You'll remember nothing of this telephone call, or who called you.'

Starsky - 'Close...too close I need...fuck, pleeeeeeease.'

Edgar - 'One, and you may release.'

There were sounds of gasping and Hutch rushed to the hi fi and pressed the button angrily. It was as though he himself had defiled his partner, Starsky's need and pain evident in the tape. The blond ripped the tape from the player and pocketed all four of them. Three would make excellent evidence against the madman. The fourth he would make sure was never seen again and as he rushed from the house, he knew that he would ensure that at least Starsky's dignity would remain in tact and no-one would hear the telephone rape Edgar had imposed on him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 **

Traff woke suddenly, his eyes piercing the gloom of Hutch's curtained bedroom. He stretched lazily and scratched his hands through his short curls before turning over onto his side and pulling the blanket up around his eras. The soldier was just about to allow himself to drift back to sleep when his eyes fastened on the part opened bedroom door. Sure that he'd left it wide open earlier and curious as to whether Hutch was sleeping ok, Traff flung back the sheets and eased himself out of the bed, padding silently into the living room. He looked around, confused for a moment. The sofa was vacant, and no light shone under the bathroom door. Cursing, and with a bad feeling, the curly haired man flicked on the light, made a cursory search of the small apartment and then peered through the window. He cursed again when he realised that Hutch's car was also gone and Traff grabbed for the telephone.

Dialing the number he'd come to know by heart, Traff waited until the phone connected, glancing at his watch. The fingers read 6:15 and when the phone was answered he asked if he could be patched through to the custody sergeant in charge of the cells.

The patch whirred on the line and the 'Yamato here. Who's this?'

'Um…this is Tom Trafford. I was there earlier last night with Detective Hutchinson.'

'Yeah, I remember. How is Hutch? He was pretty cut up about things.'

'I was gonna ask you that. I'm um….I was wondering if he might have been back there. You haven't seen him have you?'

The voice on the other end of the phone sighed. 'No. I've been on duty all night. I haven't seen him. Why? What's he done?'

Traff recognised the concern in Yamato's voice and was just about to launch into an explanation when he heard a noise at the door and a moment later, Hutch pushed his way in, his face grey and his body held stiff as though in pain. The soldier sighed deeply. 'It's fine Sergeant. He's right here. Sorry to have bothered you.'

Traff replaced the receiver and watched in silence as Hutch shouldered out of his holster and hung it up behind the door of his closet. The blond cop walked over to his cupboard, took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass and poured himself two inches of the amber liquid. He stood with his back against the counter top, took a deep breath and knocked the fiery fluid back in one chug. Spluttering slightly and ending in a cough, Hutch reached again for the bottle and would have poured another large shot had Traff not gently taken the bottle from his hand and put it back in the cupboard.

'Wanna tell me what's got you hittin' the bottle at 6 in the mornin'? where've you been? And why didn't you tell me you were goin' out?'

'Coz I'm not married to you. I can go out when I need to' Hutch snapped trying to get the bottle back from the shelf. Traff blocked his way.

'Hey. What's this all about Chief? What's happened?'

Pained crystal blue eyes locked on emerald greens and Hutch sagged against the counter. 'M'sorry. That was out of line.'

'Well somthin' happened. What's up? Share huh?'

'I woke up an' I felt I had to do somethin' so I went back to Fisher's flat.'

'Shit Hutch! Was that wise? It's a crime scene aint it? And as far as I know, you aren't on the case.'

'I'm still a cop and it's my partner's disappearance that we're investigating. I had to do something.'

'So what? Did you find somethin'? What's got you so bent over?'

'I found something. I found something that's gonna nail Edgar Fisher and send him down for the rest of his natural,' Hutch threw three tapes onto the sofa and stared at them. The fourth was now somewhere at the bottom of the ocean where he'd thrown it after he'd driven himself to the pier and had walked to the end in the pearly, milky light of that dawn.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

In that same milky dawn, fifty miles to the south of Bay City another curly haired man woke slowly and stared at the rough plastered ceiling above him. Starsky stared at one spot for a while, his mind a blank and his body still aching in places he never knew it was possible to ache. The previous evening, three days into his stay with the Cortez family, Juanita had once again had to bathe him, his fever spiking so fiercely that the blankets he lay on had been soaked and his body had shaken so violently that he'd felt his teeth would be shaken free of his head. Dreams tore at his sleep and he'd cried out incoherently until Juanita had taken him in her arms and cradled him like a child. Eventually the young woman and her brother had filled an old tin bath with cold water and had lowered the sick stranger gently into it in an last ditch attempt to lower his temperature.

For some time he'd led in the cool water thrashing his head and fighting the fever dreams still haunting his mind. Eventually though, he lay still, the fever having broken and he remained in the cool water until it had heated to his body temperature. Finally his eyes had cracked open and he'd looked around him, embarrassed that once again he'd had to be taken care of by the girl. She'd said nothing when her brother had helped Starsky out of the bath and had helped to hold him up as she gently toweled him dry and helped him step into an old pair of draw string pants.

The three had shuffled back to the sofa in the lean to and once again Starsky had led down, exhausted by his fever and his injuries and had drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Now, although still sore and aching, he felt warm and rested….. and hungry. Starsky couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten and as his stomach rumbled loudly, he threw back the single rough blanket covering him and rolled himself into a sitting position. The room shimmied around him for a moment and he sagged back against the wall, gasping for breath and keeping his eyes firmly closed. Eventually, the bed seemed to remain still and he took the opportunity to look around him again.

The lean to was small, but neat and tidy and clean as a new pin. A rickety wooden desk stood in one corner, papers stacked tidily and chits of paper hanging on a spike from the wall. An equally rickety chair was pushed neatly under the table and other than that the only bit of furniture was the sofa on which he'd slept for four days.

With a grunt. Starsky stood slowly and swayed on rubber legs. A cold sweat broke out down his spine and bile rose in his throat but he swallowed it down. He made a grab for the table and staggered towards the open doorway, looking out into a car repair garage. The smell of engine oil, gear oil and gasoline fumes seemed oddly familiar to him and the brunet forced his legs to take another few steps into the larger space, enjoying the familiarity of the place. It was bright and hot in the engine shop and as Starsky wound his way carefully past the inspection pit and the various work tables. He picked up a solenoid, blowing a speck of dust off the top. He replaced it on the workbench and was about to turn back when he heard an engine near the door start up. It fired, cut, fired and took hold, but it stuttered and ran roughly. The hood was up and from beneath it he heard a muffled curse.

Clutching at his bruised side and ribs he made his way over to the car and saw that Juanita's brother was covered in oil and frantically rubbing at the engine with his hand and a rag.

'It's the tappits' Starsky said over the noise of the engine.

Miguel straightened so quickly that he hit his head on the hood and rubbed at his head as he smiled at the handsome stranger.

'You look a little better Senior.'

'Uh huh. I feel it. You having problems?'

'Yes, the engine keeps cutting out.'

'It's the tappits. I can hear 'em. Used to have the same problem with my own car.'

'You did? What did you drive?' the young Mexican asked, wiping the oil from his hands.

Starsky smiled. 'She was a beaut. I had a….I had….damn!' he snapped, the pain lancing through his temples, although for a fleeting moment he had a vision of a bright red car, a blond man standing by its open doorway. Starsky rubbed hard at his head as the pain subsided, but it left him gasping and Miguel brought the chair from the lean to. As Starsky sat down thankfully, Junaita walked into the garage with a glass of lemonade. She handed it to her brother with a smile and then appraised her patient.

'Well Matt. I did not expect to see you up and about. How are you feeling?'

Starsky smiled shyly at her. 'Much better. Thanks to you. I don't know how I can ever repay you.'

'Matt knows about cars' Miguel announced.

'You do?' Juanita asked

'I think so. Leastways I seem to know about 'em. I didn't think about it, it just came to me. I could help around the garage if you like? When I'm stronger.'

'That would be good. We never have enough time to do everything' the young woman said happily. 'But for now, you should rest. Maybe you would like to come into the house and have a drink?'

'Yeah, that'd be good. And um…. Is there anythin' to eat?'

'Of course. Come. Lets' go inside.'

Starsky followed slowly as Juanita led the way into a small whitewashed single storey house next to the repair shop. The inside was cool, the deep eaves of the house keeping the sun away from the windows and keeping the air inside relatively cool. It was simply furnished with wooden furniture spread with brightly covered throws and rugs. The brunet was beginning to feel tired and sat patiently while Juanita busied herself with some bread a lump of cheese and a glass of lemonade. Starsky's mouth watered at the sight of the food, but after only a few mouthfuls he was full. He slaked his thirst and sat back.

'Enough?' Juanita asked.

'Guess my stomach must've shrunk. But it was great, thanks.' For some inexplicable reason, Starsky felt shy and tongue tied around the girl and she, in turn blushed as she felt his eyes on her.

'You shouldn't overdo your first day out of bed. Don't make yourself too tired, you've been very sick.'

'And you've been very good to me.'

'You can help Miguel when you are able. I couldn't help but notice when you were in bed….. you have many scars senior. How did you get them?'

Starsky looked down at his chest, his fingers running down the long silvery scars showing up through the brown hairs. They meant a great deal to him. Something bad had happened and yet, he didn't know what. 'I… I dunno. Guess I'm just not a lucky guy huh?'

'You're lucky that we picked you out of the ocean when we did. I think maybe another hour or so and you would have drowned. Do you remember why you were out so far from land? Had you fallen from a boat maybe?'

Starsky's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think. A boat? He didn't remember a boat. Somehow that didn't seem right at all. The brunet sighed. 'It's all a blank. I can't remember anything…..it's all blank, like I never existed before….shit! why can't I remember?' His voice held a hint of panic in it and gently Juanita put her arms around his shoulder, hugging him to her.

'It will all come right Senior. I promise you. Maybe when you have rested some more, you will start to remember.'

'But you've no idea what it's like. I have no name, no past, no friends. I don't remember whether I was a garbage collector or a brain surgeon. It's all just black.'

'You have a name while you are here.'

'Yeah, you called me Matt. Nice name, but I don't think it's me. I don't feel like a Matt, but I guess it's as good as any.'

'What name do you fell like?' Juanita asked, hoping that now he was more relaxed, the man might be able to remember.

'Dave.' Starsky almost shouted the name out at the same time as his head exploded into a miasma of pain. He clutched at his head, lowering it to his knees as he pawed blindly at it. The pain robbed him of his breath for a moment and he groaned as the flashes behind his eyes continued to spike into his temples and along his brow.

Juanita knelt in front of him, unsure of what to do as Starsky writhed on the hard wooden chair, his head still clutched in his hands, his breath coming in ragged sobs. 'Make it stop' he whispered. 'Oh sweet Jesus make it stop. Hurts….hurts so bad.'

The woman took his face in her hands and drew him to her, Without thinking she kissed him lightly on the lips and wiped away the single pain tear that dropped from his eye with her thumb.

'Rest Senior. It will pass, but at least you have your name….Dave. It suits you. Now come, lie down and I will bring you a cool cloth.'

The pain receded slightly and Starsky eased himself back until he could lie on his side on the hard bench, cradling his head on his arm. The woman laid a lavender scented cloth on his forehead and rubbed small comforting circles on his back. 'I am not going anywhere. Sleep. Rest' she murmured and for a split second, once again, Starsky had the impression of a blond man, a golden face smiling down at him.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 - 3 days later**

During the next few days, Starsky started to regain his strength. The time he'd spent in the ocean had sapped a lot of his vitality and each time he tried to think of his past, a terrible pain ricocheted through his head, bending him double and making him sick to his stomach. So for the most part, he remained very much in the "now", concentrating on enjoying the peace and the family life of San Carlos.

It was a sleepy little village for the most part. Standing as it was right on the Mexican border, in one of those places that the US military ignored, there were comings and goings of immigrants several times a day. So relaxed was it, that a lot of the townsfolk worked over the border in America, or went there to trade, returning without any trouble each night. On the odd occasion that a soldier was seen in San Carlos, it was more likely that he'd be sat down at the small village centre cafe and bar rather than searching for illegal immigrants and their families.

On the third afternoon, however, there was just a little bit of excitement in the sleepy village when a large Toyota pick up truck painted in black with flames licking down its sides rolled into the centre of the village and stopped. As the large rough looking driver got out of the cab and looked around, the villagers melted away like ice cream in the Mojave, women pulling their grubby children into the houses and men slinking away from the bar to disappear inside. Only Miguel kept on working in the garage just off the village square and the driver of the pick up ignored the young man buried to his waist under the hood of the car.

The driver of the pick up looked around the village, poked his nose into the bar and knocked on a couple of tightly closed doors. He received no reply and as Starsky watched from the shelter of the garage, he caught the flash of a large Colt Magnum Python hanging from a holster on the man's belt. Wondering just how he could identify the weapon from such a distance, the brunet drew back into the shadows and waited with the rest of the villagers until the driver seemed to grow bored, got into the cab again and with a blast of his two torn horn, drove off dustily into the distance.

'Who was that?' Starsky asked Miguel who had straightened when he'd heard the horn. The young man shielded his eyes against the sun and watched the pick up disappear in a cloud of dust.

'Bounty hunter. We get them here all the time. Americans skip bail and come over the border thinking they'll escape. He's a regular. Mean piece of work. He comes here two or three times a week. We ignore him. It is sometimes best.'

The brunet watched the trail of dust disappear up the small dirt track leading to the village until it was a speck in the distance. Something about the man had made him feel uncomfortable and unsure of himself. Why was he afraid of a bounty hunter? And how come he could identify the man's weapon? Fear clutched at Starsky's throat. Was he a criminal? Is that what he couldn't remember about himself? Something about that notion felt familiar and he shook his head trying to clear the thought. If he had been a criminal, at least he had a chance to go straight from now on.

'Are you ok Dave?' Miguel asked. 'You look as thought you've seen a ghost.'

Starsky plastered a smile onto his face. 'No, I'm good. I'm um... gonna go for a run. I'm stiff, need to limber up. After that, I'll help you change that engine block if you like?'

The young Mexican smiled, genuinely liking their visitor who seemed so capable around cars. 'That would be good, thank you.'

With a nod, the brunet walked out into the afternoon sun and set off a steady lope up the hill the way the bounty hunter had gone. His body was healing well and he was beginning to feel trapped in the small house. He'd taken himself off for a run twice before and felt good that he could push himself further each day. As his feet pounded away at the dirt, he tried not to think about his past. The idea that he might have been on the wrong side of the law seemed somehow abhorrent to him, but at the same time, it seemed to fit. When he allowed his mind to go completely blank and stopped concentrating, he got the occasional flash of handcuffs; a badge; and again that recurring memory of a golden man. But when he tried to fix on the images, the pain returned threatening to take away his breath and make him throw up on the dusty road.

The brunet pounded on, his feet eating up the miles as he ran in a broad circle around the village. The scenery was dusty, brown and fairly unattractive scrubland and before long, Starsky could feel the sweat trickling down his back and chest. Stopping for a moment to take off his shirt and wipe his neck and face, he looked down again at the scars laying silvery white on his chest amongst the dark brown wiry hairs. He sat down on a convenient rock, his breath whistling in his throat and the sun hot on his shoulders. Pensively, he ran his finger up the longest of the scars, from the middle of his stomach up almost to his throat. Alongside the scar were small divots of flesh that looked as though they'd housed tubes at one time or another and further up, on his left shoulder another solitary wound, the skin puckered at its edges. Instinctively Starsky knew it was a bullet wound, although he could remember nothing of how he'd gotten it. Damn! His mind was as empty as the desert he was running though, his only memories being of the last few days and the hospitality he received from Miguel and Juanita.

The brunet's body stirred as he thought about the young woman. She was beautiful, but not in an obvious way. Sure she was pretty, her long black hair worn tied up in a chignon at the nape of her neck. Her soulful brown eyes searched his soul and were a refuge when he was hurting. But it was her caring way that had caught his attention. She had a way of looking at him that left him feeling slightly weak at the knees and he felt clumsy and shy when she was around. And yet, he missed her when she was away at the local school teaching. Then he had only Miguel for company, and although the young man was kind, caring in his own way, and had a sense of humour, Starsky missed Juanita keenly. With a sigh, and squinting up at the sun that was beginning it's downward sweep, the curly haired man got to his feet, hung his shirt around his neck and started the jog back to the village.

When he returned, it was past five o'clock and Juanita had been home for some time. She had a pot of stew on the stove, simmering gently and that night the three of them ate their usual simple meal sat around the family table. Afterwards, while the brother and sister cleared the dishes, Starsky headed out back to the garage and started to look at the car Miguel had been working on earlier on that day. He lost himself in his work. The work consumed him but he enjoyed it. There was something about the feel of the car beneath his hands that felt oddly comforting and for a while the brunet allowed himself the luxury of relaxing as his hands played over the engine, prodding here, using a spanner there. It was hot and he'd taken his shirt off earlier so that he didn't get oil on it, and he didn't hear Juanita come into the garage behind him. The woman coughed and Starsky stood up suddenly, hitting his head on the hood of the car. He turned, rubbing his head with his hand to see the woman, trying hard not to laugh and holding out a glass of iced tea. Thankfully he took it and drank it down in one, some of the drink spilling and dripping from his chin onto his chest. At the end of the drink, Starsky wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and handed that glass back to Juanita.

'Thanks' he said.

'Miguel is so happy that you know about cars. He's been struggling along on his own for a while.'

'Yeah, well. I guess I ought to be payin' my way somehow.'

'We do not ask for payment, it is good that we could help you. You should come in. It's getting late and you aren't up to full strength yet. It would not be good to get too tired.'

'I know. I just need to finish up here. Can you watch this part here? Tell me if any oil leaks out while I turn over the engine huh?'

Dutifully Juanita stood by the open hood of the car as Starsky got into the cab and turned the key. He revved the engine a couple of times and waited. 'Anything?'

'No, it looks good' the woman replied.

Turning the engine off, the brunet was just about to get out of the car when he glanced sideways at the passenger seat. There, open half way through, was a glossy magazine, but it was the image that caught Starsky's eye. He grabbed for the article and held the picture up under the hissing gas lantern so that he could get a better view. Juanita walked around to the open doorway of the car and looked in.

'Dave? What is it?' she asked.

'This picture. I know this place. I know that statue' he said hesitantly.

'It's the Statue of Liberty. That's in New York. You know that place? Do you remember it?'

'Not remember exactly. Well...yeah...maybe I do remember it. I dunno. But I recognise it. It means something to me. And this... .'

Juanita peered over his shoulder. 'Brooklyn Bridge.'

'And that's the East River. I know this place' Starsky said excitedly. 'I know this place, but I don't know why. I don't...can't. Shit! Why can't I remember?'

The woman put a hand on his bare shoulder. 'I don't know Dave. But it's a start.'

The brunet turned indigo eyes to her and she saw the animation in them for the first time. 'I have to go there. I need to get to New York. There're answers there, I know there are.'

'You will Dave. You will, but stay here for a little while longer...until you are well again huh?'

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Friday morning.**

Hutch woke up slowly and yawned, feeling more tired now than when he'd gone to bed last night. It seemed always the way these days and very carefully he rolled himself into a sitting position and started working at the stiff, sore muscles around his left shoulder. He'd had a proper visit with the physiotherapist on the previous day and he seemed to feel even sorer than before, but there again, the guy had sure put him through his paces. Hutch grimaced when he'd thought about the stretching, the pulling and the rotating exercises he was meant to do and the sweat they'd induced the day before. And that was only as a result of two bullets. His mind went back over the previous years to when his partner had been recovering from his own gunshot wounds. Then Starsky had endured months of physio to get his body recovered from Gunther's men's five shots. Hutch had always had sympathy for the smaller man, but had never truly understood what Starsky had gone through. Not until now. Now the tears of pain and frustration meant a whole lot more to him and his admiration for the brunet increased tenfold.

_Starsky. Where are ya partner? OK too early in the day to start worrying. Leave it till later huh Hutchy?'_

Easing himself up off the bed, Hutch cursed when he saw the clock on the table read ten thirty. He'd told Traff he'd be up at eight, but it was obvious the soldier thought he'd needed more sleep, and truth to tell he had to agree. His healing body needed more rest than he felt he should give it, but there came a time when something had to give, and that time seemed to have arrived. Padding into the lounge, he was just about to put the kettle onto the stove when there was a persistent knock at the door. Hutch crossed the room and peered through the spy hole, sighing as he saw the familiar bulk of his Captain waiting to be let in. Dobey's visits were never a good sign. He took the chain off the door and opened it. Dobey walked in and stood uncomfortably just inside the living room.

'Cap'n.'

'Um... Hutchinson. Good to see you looking so um...'

Hutch looked down at himself. Dressed only in his pyjama pants, the dressing on his shoulder stood out white against his fading tan and his ribs did a passable impression of a xylophone. He snorted softly. 'So what? Thin?'

'So um...well.'

Hutch led the way to the sofa and sat down stiffly. Dobey followed, but remained standing, his fingers knotting and unknotting in front of him. The blond regarded him levelly.

'Ok, enough. Gimme the news.'

'What news? I was just here to um...'

Hutch closed his eyes. 'Something's happened hasn't it? Have they found Starsky? Have they found a bo...found him? Is that why you're here?'

'No, they haven't found anything. No body, no nothing.'

'Then what? Much as I like your visits Cap, usually you're around here to tell me what's happening with the investigation. And I know you. You don't give bad news over the phone.'

Dobey sat down heavily and his forehead creased in pain. 'I'm sorry son. I had a call from the coastguards today. They um... It's been almost eight days. They've um... They've called off the search. I'm sorry.'

'Called it off? Why? They haven't found him. They haven't found anythin'. They can't call it off' Hutch yelled, his face turning white.

Dobey shook his head. 'Hutch, think about it. They've been searching for eight days. Could anyone survive in the water for eight days? He wasn't exactly well when he went in, was he? You...we just have to face the very real possibility that Starsky is dead.'

'NO' Hutch yelled again, his eyes staring wildly. 'He aint dead and you've no right to say that he is. I'd know if he was dead. I'd feel it. An' I don't. I know he's alive an' I know we owe it to him to keep on lookin'. So we get the coastguards back, or we hire a boat, or we do somethin' but there is no way on God's green earth that I'm gonna give up until someone, God forbid, shows me his dead body. Do you have that? I aint givin' up.'

Wearily Dobey nodded. 'I knew you'd say that. The coastguard is out of the question. They've called off the official search. If you want to continue, it'll be down to you and Traff. But in the meantime, you have a stark choice. We either declare him a casualty now and call a halt to proceedings, or we carry on looking and hope to God he's here to answer his bail on Monday at the hearing. You have 2 more days to find him.'

'Fine. And I will find him. I will' Hutch said with finality. 'He's still out there, an' he aint dead, have ya got that? And when I do find him I'm gonna clear his name.'

'Just how're you gonna do that? Dobey asked, his eyebrows raised. You've seen the reports from the interviews with Fisher. He's tight as a ducks ass. He won't say anythin'.

'No, but these'll do all the talking for him' Hutch said bitterly, getting up to drop 3 cassette tapes into Dobey's lap.

'What're these?'

'Evidence. Primary evidence. I got 'em from Fisher's apartment. They're recordings of the telephone calls he made to Starsky, hypnotising him. We got enough there to nail that sucker with or without Starsky there.'

Dobey sighed. 'I aint even gonna ask what you were doing at a crime scene when you're off sick and not even assigned to the case. I don't need to tell you you're walkin' on thin ice.'

Hutch's face cracked into a broad grin. 'I'll walk on water so long as it clears my partner's name.'


	31. Chapter 31

**Part 2 - Chapter 31 - Sunday night. And a double helping today for all those ladies who asked and are waiting patiently for a Starsky chapter! (Don't go skipping right to 32, will you?)**

Hutch watched as Traff poured a half of a tumbler full of the amber fluid and handed it to him. The soldier's face held a sad smile as he took his own glass and raised it.

'Departed friends' he toasted as both men took a sip of the fiery liquid.

'He's not dead, I know he's not dead' Hutch insisted as he put his glass down and stared hard at the coffee table.

Since Dobey's visit two days ago, the two men had run themselves ragged, chartering motor boats and searching the area by sea before taking Traff's car and patrolling up and down the coast. They'd spent long hours searching, starting before first light and ending, weary and grimy late into the night on both the days. The more they searched, however, the more they both came to realise just what an enormous area they had to look at and what a daunting task they'd set themselves.

On the first day, out on the boat, Hutch had sat at the helm, his shirt open and a cap jammed on his head, the peak sheltering his eyes from the strong sunlight. Sparkles danced off the surface of the water and stung at his eyes as he'd swept the horizon time after time. The waves played tricks with his mind and there were several times during that first day that he'd thought he'd seen a head bobbing about on the surface of the ocean. Twice he'd gunned the engine and knocked Traff off balance as he'd thrown the small launch in the direction he'd thought he'd seen his partner, but each time he reached the place he'd marked with his eyes to find nothing but inky water and white crested waves.

Had their quest not been so dire, the men might have enjoyed their time out on the sea. To begin with the sun shone brightly and only a playful breeze ruffled the surface, rocking their boat gently, but by mid afternoon, a squall could be seen on the horizon and the clouds started to gather, the wind picking up until the calm waters were churned into waves several feet high. Traff, who was at the controls struggled to keep the shallow draughted motor boat on an even keel, but finally he had to turn to Hutch with regret in his eyes.

'It's getting too rough' he shouted over the wind and spray. 'We need to get back to harbor or we're gonna be no better off than Curly.'

Hutch had opened his mouth to reply, but the waves were too big for him to argue logically and so sadly he nodded his assent, they turned the boat around and headed for the shelter of the harbor just as the squall hit. The sea changed almost immediately from the calm turquoise waters of minutes ago to inky blue waves that buffeted their craft and blocked their view of the harbor wall and it was only then, with their boat rocking precariously that Hutch truly realised what a miracle it would have been if they'd found Starsky.

The next day, tired but still determined, they'd taken to the car and had searched each cove and beach along the coast road, scrambling over rocks to get to the more inaccessible areas. But with each place coming up empty, both Traff and Hutch had a sinking feeling that their search would be futile.

Now it was 10:00pm Sunday night and they'd been back in the house for a half an hour. Hutch had taken a shower first, his body aching in places he didn't think it was possible to ache. He felt dispirited, weary and was trying hard not to think of the inevitable. If Starsky was dead in his head, then it was tantamount to the brunet being dead in reality and despite the fruitless search and the time he'd been gone, Hutch was still not fully ready to give up on his partner. Still there was a glimmer of hope in his heart and still he didn't "feel" that Starsky was dead. Traff had just come out of the bathroom from his own shower, towel round his neck and bare chested to see the blond with his had in his hands, his shoulders shaking silently. The soldier took the brand new bottle of whiskey from the shelf and poured two generous measures and handed one to Hutch. Together they toasted their friend.

Traff sat down on the chair opposite the flaxen haired cop and regarded his friend sadly. 'I know it's tough Blondie, but some time soon you're gonna have to come to terms with the fact that he may be de….'

'He aint dead' Hutch exploded, his terror at the thought evident in his response. He smiled shyly at his own outburst and his voice softened. 'He isn't. I'd feel it, I know I would, and I don't. He's still out there an' we just need to find him.'

'Times gettin' on Chief. It's been almost two weeks with no sign' the soldier said gently. 'Don't do this to yourself Hutch. Don't torture yourself like this. Sometimes, we have to know when to let go.'

'I know. And I do, believe me. But now isn't the time Traff. I'm gonna keep on looking until I know I can't look any more.'

The dark haired soldier sighed. 'I miss him too ya know. He was so….'

'Gullible?'

Traff's eyebrows rose. 'Not the description I'd use. Gullible? How so?'

'Dunno, maybe it's not the right word…. Just some of the things he did. Some of the stuff he got up to. Like buyin' a pet stone from Huggy and payin' 20 dollars for it. There again, it saved his life.'

'A pet stone huh? How?'

'We were undercover' Hutch rubbed at his jaw as though he could still feel the blow his partner had delivered. 'He was with a group of dirty cops and they had him cornered and under fire. He threw the stone, they shot at it an' not Starsk and he managed to get away.'

'Wow! Sounds like Curly boy. But he was innocent too. Leastways he was when I knew him first time.'

Hutch almost choked on his drink thinking of his partner, the great Romeo as innocent. 'Now that I don't believe!'

'It's true. I mean he wasn't exactly pure as the driven snow, but he wasn't….experienced either. We were together in 'Nam – he told you that?'

'Uh huh.'

'We'd had a bad run of operations and we had a night off and we headed for the local village. It was kind of a one horse town, but they had a bar and a whore house and we needed some diversion. While he was busy elsewhere, I got us a couple of girls. They were twins, but it turned out they only had one room. When I told Curly he couldn't get his head round the fact we'd be havin' a foursome. Never seen a guy colour up so quick' Traff grinned at the memory.

'You mean you two and two girls in the same room?'

'Uh uh. In the same bed. It was wild.'

Hutch smiled back. 'I bet it was! Jeez, he never slipped that one into conversation!'

'Did he tell you about his plans to give up bein' a cop and start his own livestock business?'

It was Traff's turn to choke and he giggled. 'Curly as a farmer….wow. Not two words I'd have put in the same sentence.'

'Well he wasn't exactly talkin' cows and sheep. Some flake sold him a guinea pig but said it was a pure bred chinchilla. Told him it would make him a fortune if he bred 'em right.'

'A guinea pig huh?'

'Yeah. We tried to tell him, but in the end he gave it to Dobey's daughter. He'd had a bad time and she came around. She was the only one who could get though to him.' Hutch's mind went back to the days after Wheeler's daughter had been killed. (_see Shining Link, by this author_).

'_Hiya Rosey, how are you?' Hutch asked as he helped her out of her jacket. She threw her arms round Hutch's neck._

'_Hi Uncle Ken, I'm good. I brought Louise, like you said. Is Uncle Dave sick?' her little round face creased in concentration._

'_Yeah, he's sick. Some bad men hurt him and he's real sad' Hutch explained, seeing her struggling to take it in. 'They're gone now. Your Daddy took care of that, but St…Uncle Dave is very sad because his girlfriend died and they hurt him too. We wondered. Do you think you can cheer him up?'_

_She nodded, clearly proud of her mission and without pausing went to the bedroom door, reaching up to the handle. Dobey and Hutch watched as she went into the dimly lit room and crossed confidently to the bed._

_She walked around the bed until she could see Starsky's face, but his eyes were closed. She gently put out a podgy little hand and brushed it through his hair._

'_Uncle Dave, are you asleep?' she whispered._

_The unfamiliar voice seemed to penetrate the fog clouding the brunet's mind and slowly his eyes opened and he looked at the little girl._

_She smiled at him. 'Uncle Ken said you were sad' she said in the direct way kids have of coming to the point._

_Starsky's eyes opened a little wider and he managed the shadow of a nod. Rosey climbed up onto the bed and put her arm round his neck, resting her face in his curls. She always liked his hair because she said it tickled her nose when she kissed him and it always smelled warm and comforting. She pulled away and looked at the healing wounds on his back, gently tracing one with her little finger._

'_Uncle Ken said some bad men hurt you. Does it hurt a lot?' she asked._

_The question seemed to spark something in the injured cop's mind and he turned slightly in the bed so that he could see the little girl better._

'_Yeah, it hurts' he mumbled as he reached out to run his fingers through her black hair. _

'_I had to go to the doctors and he bandaged my knee when Cal pushed me out of the tree house. That hurt, but the doctor said a cuddle would make it alright. Do you want a cuddle Uncle Dave? Daddy says I give the best cuddles'._

_Stiffly Starsky lifted his arm and she insinuated herself beneath it, wrapping her small arms around his neck as she planted a kiss on his cheek. The brunet smiled into her eyes, seeing only love and childlike innocence. No hurt, no pain and no evil. It seemed so long since he'd just been able to enjoy the simple pleasures and he sighed, relaxing against the little body as Rosey continued to prattle about her school, her brother and her new pet guinea pig. It was so normal, so comforting and so…..ordinary._

The night wore on with friendly chat and also with the level of the whiskey bottle plummeting. Finally Traff put his empty glass down on the table and stood uncertainly.

'C'mon Hutssssh. Court t'morrow. We gotta be ready for da Judge.'

The blond regarded him blearily. 'Don't wanna.'

'Don't wanna go t'bed?'

'No… don't wanna ssshtand…..can't.'

'Sh'alright….I'll help' Traff mumbled, holding out a hand to the three blonds sat on the chair. The central man held out his own hand and grasped his friend's pulling himself to his feet and together they tottered into the bedroom where Hutch flung himself down on the bed without getting undressed and Traff found his way back into the living room, lay down on the sofa and was asleep in moments.

Next morning, Hutch woke with a raging headache and a mouth that felt like the bottom of a parrot's cage. He squinted at the bright light flooding through the crack in the curtain and wondered for a moment why he had such a feeling of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. Reality hit with a bump and he remembered. Monday. Court hearing for Starsky's case and no defendant to answer bail. Shit!

Easing himself off the bed, he ignored the pile driver in his head and headed for the living room where the hard drinking soldier was already up and brewing strong black coffee. He glanced up as Hutch walked in and snickered.

'Oh God, do I look as bad as I feel?' the blond asked, running his fingers through his mussed flaxen hair.

'Probably worse. And you've got an hour before we need to be at the courthouse. Get a shower and get yourself ready huh? We're meeting Liz outside to brief her on what we've been doin'. Hopefully the Judge will grant a continuance under the circumstances and we can get back to searching for Starsk.'

Hutch grunted and headed for the shower. He turned the faucet to cool and stood under the reviving stream for a while until he felt more or less human, got out, towelled his hair dry, shaved and got dressed.

Forty minutes later, the two men pulled up outside the courthouse, parked up and ran up the steps. Liz was waiting at the top for them, a worried look on her face.

'I take it you haven't found him then?' she asked. Traff leaned over and kissed her chastely on the cheek and she returned the greeting. Suddenly Hutch knew exactly how Traff had managed to persuade Liz to apply for bail for Starsky and he snickered to himself. So, what they said about men in uniform was true!

'No, we've been searching for days, but nothing.'

'So what do you want me to tell the Judge?' the woman asked. 'As I see it we have two choices depending on when the police department are willing to um….to…'

'Announce that he's dead?' Hutch asked bitterly. 'Not gonna happen. Over my dead body.'

The woman gave him a peculiar look but saw the steely glint in Hutch's eyes. She sighed. 'In that case we need a damned good excuse as to why he isn't here to answer his bail.'

'Can't you tell the Judge he's sick?' Traff offered.

Liz pursed her lips. 'I think that in this case, honesty is the best policy. We outline the case, we tell the Judge about the tapes you found and we explain that we think Starsky is still under hypnotic influence and has disappeared.'

'And you think the Judge will buy that?' Hutch asked hopefully.

The lawyer looked at him pityingly. 'I looked on the list. We've got Judge Steiger. They call him the Smiling Executioner. Would _you_ believe the story I'm gonna be telling him?'

'We can but try' Traff said as he put his arm around Liz's waist. 'It's amazing how persuasive people can be.'

She smiled up at him and nodded from beneath half closed eyelids. 'Where's the uniform soldier boy?' she whispered. He squeezed her waist and they walked into the courtroom.

Liz took up her position at the front behind the defence desk and Martin O'Shea, the prosecutor walked in with a file under his arm. He smiled at Liz who wondered over to him and the two put their heads together. Martin looked over at Hutch, his eyebrows raised and then went back to his conversation, but it was cut short by a knock on the door and the court bailiff cleared his throat.

'All stand. Bay City Courthouse is now in session, the Honourable Judge Elmer Steiger presiding.' The black gowned judge whisked into court and sat down and shuffled his papers on his desk.

'Miss Abraham, where's the defendant?'

Liz stood up. 'Your honour, Mr Starsky is plainly missing and I move for a continuance. The tapes lodged at court as defence exhibits one thru three clearly show that Edgar Fisher had my client under hypnotic influence. I say that that hypnosis is still influencing Mr Starsky in some way and….'

'And the moon is made of green cheese' Steiger muttered. 'Counsel for the prosecution, what are your views on this?'

O'Shea stood up from his chair refusing to look at Liz. 'Your Honour, the state wasn't happy about David Starsky being granted bail originally. It seems our fears were unfounded. We move for a warrant of arrest to be issued.

Hutch came to his feet. 'No, you don't understand! You can't do that' he yelled.

The Judge glared at the angry blond man. 'Bailiff, have that man removed' he snapped before turning his attention back to the matter in hand. One of the uniformed officers came to collect Hutch and started to man handle him out of the courtroom as the Judge continued.

'This court is of the opinion that David Michael Starsky has wilfully ignored this court hearing. A warrant for his immediate arrest should be issued forthwith. Bailiff call on the next case.'

At the back of the courtroom Hutch clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together in an attempt to stop shouting out again and as the court official pushed him out through the door, he was joined by Traff and Dobey. Together they found a quiet conference room and put their heads together.

'So? What now?' Dobey grunted.

'Now we kick some butt' Hutch yelled. 'Pump Fisher for everything we can and me and Traff keep lookin' If he's out there we'll find him. We'll fine him.'

Traff smiled sadly at Dobey and took a hold of the blond's arm. 'Hutch, God knows I don't want to tell you this buddy. Curly's as much my friend as yours, but you have to start admitting that he's been gone too long. It's been almost 2 weeks without seeing hide nor hair of him. You have to accept the fact that he's gone. I've been on enough search and rescue missions to know' the soldier said quietly.

Hutch's eyes blazed back at him. 'But you've never searched for Starsky before.'

'Um, yeah, I have Chief. In 'Nam.'

'And did you fine him?'

'Uh huh. he was pretty far gone, but I found him.'

'Well we have a repeat performance. And if you won't help me, I'll do it myself. One last time guys. I'm not giving up.'


	32. Chapter 32

**Part 2 – Chapter 32**

The sun beat down during the afternoon of Monday. Starsky had woken early and had felt good, the residual aches and pains in his body having slid into the background. The cuts on his neck and arm were healing well and showed no further signs of infection and although he still tired fairly easily at least he wasn't sleeping for large parts of the day.

The brunet couldn't express his gratitude to both Juanita and Miguel Cortez. Neither was rich, in fact they seemed to exist on the borders of poverty and yet they shared their house and food with this relative stranger as though he were a close relative. In repayment, Starsky did what he could in the garage, and he took pleasure in the fact that while his mind seemed a painful blank, for some inexplicable reason he seemed able to remember how to piece the cars back together when they came in to be fixed. Several times during the occasions he was up to his elbows in car engine, the brunet had had flash backs of the same red car. It was big and shiny and he thought it had a white stripe along its side, but each time he concentrated on the thought, the familiar agonising pain would cut across his forehead and double him over with its intensity until he stopped. Eventually, Starsky learned not to think and instead just to go with his emotions. When he was under the hood of a car, he seemed to be at home and his hands seemed to know exactly what they were meant to do, and so he let them.

So, on that Monday, he got up from the sofa in the lean to, had a little breakfast and then walked into the garage. Miguel had gone up to Mesa Verde to buy new supplies for his work and had left a large pick up, rusty around the edges, but still able to work. Its hood was popped and Starsky opened it and gazed inside at the mechanical gubbins. Gently he started to probe the engine like a surgeon would probe a body. Slowly but surely the engine gave up its secrets and the brunet started to understand the problems, his hands working firmly and surely to solve the mechanical problems.

The curly haired man became lost in the game of fixing the car and time escaped him. Lunchtime came and went and still Starsky was intent on fixing the engine faults and it wasn't until five o'clock when Juanita came into the garage that Starsky stopped and looked up. The woman looked at him worriedly.

'Have you been here all day?'

The brunet looked up, suddenly aware that his back and chest ached like never before. With a hiss, he straightened, his legs now rubbery from standing for so long without a break.

'Guess I got carried away' he mumbled, wiping his hands on an oily rag.

'What is it with men and cars?' Juanita asked angrily. 'I take time and trouble to nurse you back to health and you pay more attention to a car!' With a toss of her black hair, the woman turned on her heel and marched stiff backed into the house while the brunet stared open mouthed at her retreating frame.

Slowly the curly haired man put the hood of the car down and tried to walk towards the house. But having bent over the hood of the car all that time had taken its toll on his healing body and he staggered, barely keeping his balance as he made it to the small patio surrounding the house. He grabbed for the chair on the patio and sagged down into it, groaning quietly as he put his head in his hands. Dammit, he'd done too much. Far too much, and yet the tiredness felt good – painful, but good. Starsky closed his eyes and tried to wait out the pains, but the ache was bone deep and he found himself moving and shifting to try to alleviate them.

'Dave? Are you alright?' Juanita's concerned voice sounded by his shoulder.

'Dunno…. Hurts.' he managed to gasp.

The woman put her hands on his overheated shoulders and started to kneed at the knotted muscles there, but the pressure was too intense and Starsky yelped in pain. Juanita stopped and came to kneel in front of him.

'I'm sorry. I should not have lost my temper. You were only helping. What can I do for you?'

'Jeez, I don't know. I ache like nuthin else. Feel shattered. M'sorry.' The brunet muttered.

The young woman stood up. 'I know what will make you feel better. Wait there, I will be back soon.' She left Starsky on the patio and rushed inside and he could hear her clattering about in the living room and beyond. She must have been gone for at least a quarter of an hour and during that time, the curly haired man's muscles burned and seized up and he felt like he was dying.

Eventually Juanita reappeared and gently helped Starsky to his feet. His back had completely seized up and he had difficulty straightening and he shuffled behind her into the small bedroom at the back of the cottage like an old man. There, he saw the same old tin bath that they'd used to cool him over a week ago, but this time it was filled with hot soapy water and the woman walked around behind him and started to peel of his shirt.

'I can do it' Starsky rasped, not unkindly.

'I know, but you're exhausted. Let me help. Or do you not wish me to be here?'

The brunet snorted huskily. 'Honey right now I wouldn't care if the whole Mormon Tabernacle Choir were here. I couldn't raise a smile let alone anything else.'

Juanita smiled. 'But it's amazing what a refreshing bath can do. I'll let you get undressed and soak.' The woman left and Starsky managed to peel off his pants and stagger over to the tub. He got himself in and with a few groans and a quiet hiss he lowered himself into the hot water. It felt so good on his overworked muscles and with a sigh, the brunet lay back in the water and closed his eyes. The soap bit at those wounds that still hadn't healed fully, but the caress of the warm water was more sensual that that of any lover and slowly but surely, Starsky felt his knotted and tired muscles relax as he kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply and easily.

How long he stayed that way he did not know, but suddenly he was aware of another person in the room and he cracked one deep blue eye open, shifting self consciously in the bath as Juanita walked in and knelt by the side of the tub.

'Um…. I can do that' Starsky muttered as the woman soaped a large soft sponge and started to rub at his chest.

'Let me do it for you' she said simply. 'Its nothing I haven't seen before. You were very sick for a few days.'

'Well yeah, but I was well out of it then. I couldn't um…. complain.'

She smiled shyly. 'Are you complaining now?' she asked, the sponge heading dramatically southward.

Starsky squeaked and unsuccessfully turned it into a cough and his hand grabbed for the sponge.

'Not complainin', no. But um…. Well I'm not used to women giving me baths – I don't think – and um….'

'Um?' Juanita asked with an intent look in her eye.

'Um, if you keep on doin' that honey, I can't be held responsible for my actions.'

She smiled again, her whole face lighting up. 'And what actions would those be Dave?'

'These' Starsky said, grabbing the woman round her waist and pulling her bodily into the tub with him. She yelped and batted at him with soapy hands, splashing the water over the side of the tub. 'Noo! I'm all wet' she said, trying to push herself back from him.

'Uh huh. That's what baths do for ya. You know what's supposed to happen now?'

'No.'

'Well now, we get out of the tub and towel each other dry.'

She looked at him curiously. 'That doesn't sound too exciting.'

'Depends where you towel' he growled with a grin.

Together they managed to lever themselves out of the bath and before Juanita could protest, Starsky had gathered the wet woman up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. Her wet blouse clung to her body, her nipples peeping out darkly through the white cotton and her skirt clinging to her legs. She looked up at the brunet with trust in her eyes as he grabbed a towel and started to rub her legs gently.

'Dave, I…. you don't have to do this' she said in a small voice.

'Don't have to….. hey who's forcing me. Unless you want me to stop' Starsky stopped and looked down at her, suddenly shy in case he'd made a huge mistake. The girl's eyelids drooped and she looked up at him coyly.

'It's not that I don't want you to. It's just…. I'm not one of your American girls Dave. We are a small village and I have lived here all my life. I've…. I've never been with a man before, not this way' she blushed and looked away, trying to straighten her skirt. Starsky sat down by her side, naked but not ashamed of his nakedness. Gently he picked her up and held her to him, nuzzling his face into her neck.

'I'm so sorry honey. I never meant to force you. I shouldn't have…..'

'You didn't do anything. I know what I'm doing. I just wanted to tell you that I'm a …. well I'm not experienced.'

'But you still want to….?'

'With you, yes. You're kind and gentle and I know you wouldn't hurt me.'

Starsky felt a lump grow in his throat and he kissed the woman gently on her lips. 'No, I won't hurt you' he said softly. 'As long as you're sure…'

'Oh yes' she breathed as she felt his hands on her body. Gently he unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it from her shoulders, exposing her breasts and Starsky bent to kiss them, licking gently at her pink nipples. Juanita sighed beneath him and lifted her hips as he deftly helped her out of her skirt until she lay before him naked and waiting.

Starsky lay down beside her, holding her and stroking her arm and the side of her neck until the woman relaxed. Knowing how important it was to take it slowly, Starsky dotted little kisses along the line of her jaw, ending with his mouth covering hers. She moaned into his moth and her hands started to work at the muscles of his back, running her fingers down his spine from neck to the top of his butt. As Starsky continued kissing and nuzzling at Juanita's neck, she reached down and took a handful of butt on each hand, kneading them and eliciting a groan of contentment from the brunet. He stopped his ministrations and gazed at her.

'Woman you are beautiful' he murmured.'

'And you are handsome Senior. More handsome than any man I have seen before.' her hand reached down between then hesitantly and hovered just above Starsky's waiting cock. Gently he took her wrist and guided her to him, feeling her fingers close around him as he shook, her body testing his powers of control to its limits. Slowly. But with increasing confidence, she started to stroke at his shaft, feeling him warm and hard in her hand and while she brought moans of enjoyment from him, Starsky guided his hand between her legs and dipped into the core of her body. Juanita stiffened for a second before relaxing as his fingers played her body and brought such joy as she'd never thought possible.

Pretty soon, Starsky knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and quietly he whispered in her ear 'Are you ready honey? Are you absolutely sure?'

Beneath him, she nodded her eyes sparkling as he manoeuvred himself between her legs, Raising up on his elbows her looked into her eyes. 'It may hurt' he said softly.

'I know. Please…. Take care of me.'

With a sigh, the brunet lowered his body to the girls and she hitched a breath as she felt him push at her opening. Forcing herself to relax, she allowed him to push just inside and there Starsky rested a moment, giving her time to adjust to his bulk. He gritted his teeth against the urge to push further in, knowing that he mustn't hurt her, but the pressure was increasing and slowly he guided himself further inside. There was a moment's resistance and Juanita gave a small cry before he was seated right inside her. Gently he started to move in and out and the girl started to move her hips in time with him.

Their pace picked up until they were dancing to the same tune and Starsky could feel the build up of tension in the centre of his body. Still he refused to allow himself to give full reign to his feelings, wanting this to be a special time for the girl. Finally he felt her stomach muscles contract and her body sucked him more deeply inside her. Knowing she was close, the brunet gave one final push and allowed himself release just as Juanita's body arched up against him and she cried out his nae, her hands clawing at the sheets on the bed.

Finally she relaxed and the brunet rolled off her onto his side, stroking a strand of hair from her damp forehead. Juanita opened her eyes and smiled at him.

'Thank you' she whispered.

Starsky grinned. 'Believe me honey. The pleasure was all mine.'


	33. Chapter 33

**Part 2 – Chapter 33**

All that night, Starsky and Juanita kissed and cuddled and snuggled into each other. Twice more they made love and each time was as tender as the first, the woman answering Starsky's body with shyness at first and then, as she became familiar with him, more exuberance until they had relaxed completely into each other's company. Eventually, satiated, warm and relaxed, they slept entwined in each other's arms, the brunet's chin resting atop Juanita's head which nestled on his shoulder.

It was the first sunbeams of the morning that finally woke them and Starsky stretched luxuriously and managed to shuffle out from below the woman without waking her to go and stand at the window of the small bedroom. He looked out at the small dusty backyard and the three chickens scratching a living from the rough grass sprouting around the perimeter. The sun shone down steadily although at this early hour it was still cool and had that fresh quality that comes only from the early morning.

People were just beginning to start the day. Across the village square, the baker was stoking up his oven ready for the day's batch of bread and the next door neighbours children were already outside playing in a small puddle of mud. Life seemed good here. Not easy, but there was good honest toil and Starsky thought that given the chance maybe he could have settled down with Juanita to make a new life for himself. But the pictures he'd seen in the magazine had unsettled him. For some reason the notion of the big city held an appeal for him and although he had no direct memories of it, New York meant something to him. Did he have family there? Did he live and work there? And if he did, why was he on the other side of the country and so far south? What did he know of himself and what secrets did his past withhold from him?

Padding back to the bed, the curly haired man sat down on the small chair and looked fondly at the woman. In sleep she looked innocent and younger than her years – almost childlike and he wondered if he had someone like her in his life previously. Bracing himself for the pain that would surely follow, Starsky tried to consciously think back to his life before San Carlos. There had to have been one, he knew that for certain, but what had that life been and what had he forgotten?

Closing his eyes, the brunet concentrated on the big black impenetrable barrier that had closed off his mind. In his head, he tiptoed up to the blackness and tried to sweep it away with his hand. There was a warning shot of pain behind his eyes, but he ignored it and pushed on regardless. The not knowing was worse than the pain and he steeled himself for more of the same as he let his mind wander.

Another flash of pain took him and shook him and he grasped at his head, pressing his knuckles into his temples but at the same time he got a clear vision of a man with flaxen blond hair and piercing crystal blue eyes. The man smiled at him and raised his hand and he heard words from a velvety voice that was oh so familiar.

'Hey buddy, how're ya doin'?'

Breathing past the pain that pebbled his forehead with perspiration, Starsky tried to fix on that one face and put a name to it. 'Who are you?' he whispered to himself. 'What's your name buddy? Your name…..your name is…..is….. HUTCH!' the name was ripped from Starsky's throat as the pain in his head overwhelmed him and he fell from the chair onto his knees, his forehead almost touching the ground as he panted and writhed on the floor. Within seconds Juanita was awake and on her knees beside him, her arm round his shoulders.

'What? What is it my love? Are you hurting? Is it your neck…. your arm…. tell me.'

'Head…. Hurts…. oh God it hurts Hutch' the words were out of his mouth before he consciously thought about them and the woman sat back in surprise.

'Who? Who or what is Hutch?' she asked

'I dunno' Starsky moaned. 'I was tryin' to think about my past – who I was an' I got this picture in my head and that name popped into my memory. Hutch. I think that's the guy's name an' I know he means somethin' to me. I can feel it. He's important.' Slowly, Starsky pushed himself up from the ground and stood panting by the side of the open window. Juanita stood by his side, rubbing comforting circles on his back and somehow that action too seemed to fit with the golden man and his name.

'Might he be your brother?' the woman asked.

Starsky's eyebrows knitted together in concentration. 'No, don't think so, but we're close. I feel it, but I dunno why. Shit! Why can't I remember?'

'But it seems to be coming back' Juanita ventured.

'Not fast enough. You've no idea what it's like to have no memories…. no past. It scares me. I don't know whether I'm a good guy or….. somethin' else. I don't know if I have a family, a wife…. kids. There's nuthin there, nuthin at all' he spat out bitterly.

'But now you have "Hutch"' the woman said gently. 'And once one memory comes back, others will follow. You must have patience Dave.'

Slowly, a small smile appeared over his face as he saw the look of compassion on Juanita's face. 'Somehow honey, I don't think I was ever a patient man.'

She smiled back. 'Even without your memories, I think you're right.'

Breakfast over, Starsky and Miguel helped Juanita with the dishes. Her brother knew something was going on between Juanita and the handsome dark haired stranger, but much as he liked Dave, eventually he drew his sister away to a quiet corner.

'What are you doing Chica?' he asked.

She regarded him levelly. 'Doing? Nothing.'

'Yes, you are. You're flirting with a man we know nothing about.'

Latin temperament flared and Juanita's eyes flashed amber fire. 'I know what I'm doing. I don't need my little brother to lecture me.'

'Don't you?' Miguel snapped before his voice softened. 'I'm sorry Chica. I'm just trying to be the voice of reason. I'm happy that you are happy with Dave, truly I am, but we know nothing about him and he knows nothing about himself'.

'He's a good man, I know he is' the woman said defensively.

'I'm sure he is. But Juanita, please, be careful. I could not bear it if you were hurt.'

The young woman smiled and enfolded her brother in a hug. 'What would I do without my big baby brother huh? I love you Miguel and I won't allow myself to be hurt.'

'I love you too, 'Nita, but I can't breathe if you squish me like that' her brother laughed as he extricated himself from her embrace.

Miguel kissed his sister lightly on the cheek and waved as she made her way down the dusty street to the small schoolhouse at the end of the village. Turning, he made his way out to the garage where Starsky was already at work on the rusty old pick up. The Mexican picked up a wrench and joined the curly haired man under the hood of the car. For a little while they worked in companionable silence.

'You like her, don't you?' Miguel finally asked.

Starsky looked up, surprised. 'Your sister? What's not to like? Of course I like her.'

'I think she more than likes you, Senior Dave. I think she may be falling in love with you.'

The brunet straightened up and rested his spanner on the rim of the engine block. 'And you don't like that?'

'If you are genuine in your affection for her, I have no problem. But if you are going to, how you say play fast and loose, that would not be good.'

Starsky saw the genuine compassion and care in the young man's eyes. 'I won't hurt her. Not if it's in my power to stop it. I think that maybe I love her too' he said softly.

'You do?' Miguel asked with a smile. 'Then that is good, isn't it?'

'Yeah, I guess so' Starsky said, bending again to huddle under the hood of the car. There was silence again for a while as both men became engrossed in fixing the old truck. It was almost ready for consigning to the scrap heap, but Starsky enjoyed the challenge and was once again oiled up to his elbows when a familiar loud engine sounded outside the village. Both men looked up from the truck and watched as the bounty hunter's truck swept into the village and drew to a halt in the square. The hunter switched off the engine, got out of the truck and looked around. He had a couple of sheets of paper in his hand and he took a look at them before stowing them away in his pocket.

As with the last time, the villagers seemed to melt away, leaving the man in solitary state in the middle of the village, but the hunter didn't seem to mind. Instead, he headed for the bar and appeared a few minutes later with a bottle of beer. He perched on the fender of his truck and took a deep chug of the bottle just as Starsky walked from the garage back towards the house.

The bounty hunter's eyes followed the curly haired man and he grabbed the papers from his pocket again and held them up, looking carefully. Starsky was oblivious to the man's actions and went into the house, emerging a few minutes later with two glasses of lemonade for himself and for Miguel. As he came out of the house Miguel stood at the garage door, watching and the hunter, stowed the papers away again, pushed himself almost lazily off the fender and walked towards the garage.

Something in the bounty hunter's demeanour told Miguel that things were not quite right and as the huge man approached he turned to Starsky and something made him turn to his new friend.

'DAVE RUN' he yelled

Galvanised into action and with the young Mexican's voice ringing in his ears, Starsky dropped the glasses to shatter in the dirt, turned on his heel and ran full tilt up the hill and away from the village. He didn't know why he was running and had no concept of why the bounty hunter would want him, but on the other hand, he had no past and no memories and nothing to base any innocence on. Miguel's voice was insistent and his fight or flight instincts took over, measuring fight against flight and plumping for the latter. Pure adrenaline pushed him on as he heard the truck started up again and come driving up the hill towards him.

Ducking off the road, the curly haired man ran a zigzag path though the scrub hoping that the driver would be unable to keep up with his defensive tactics, but the hunter was used to his quarry not wanting to be caught and he eased the big truck through turn after turn as he got closer and closer to the running prisoner. Breath whistled in Starsky's throat as his heart pumped wildly in his chest and twice he cast a look over his shoulder to see the gap between him and the truck narrowing quickly. With Starsky close in his sights, the hunter braked suddenly leapt from his car and levelled his gun at the brunet. A shot rang out and kicked up dust a yard from Starsky's shoe and at the same time a shout followed it.

'David Starsky. I'm arresting you for bail offences in the state of California. Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head.' As though to reinforce the command another shot rang out, this time only a foot away from the fleeing man and Starsky came to a ragged halt, the sweat of fear prickling on his forehead and tricking down his back as he dropped first to his knees and then to his belly in the dirt. He laced his hands behind his head and led panting and fearful as large dusty boots appeared in front of his face.

'Get up, punk' the bounty hunter snarled, fishing for a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

Starsky got slowly to his knees, the big man looming in front of him and as the hunter took a step forward, the brunet suddenly had a clear and terrifying flashback to another time and another huge man with handcuffs whose zip was open and whose cock was ready to be forced into his open mouth.

'Noo' he yelled and staggered to his feet to make a run for it. The brunet took off like a cork from a champagne bottle but the hunter was faster and ready for the flight and in a couple of steps had tackled the fleeing brunet onto the ground, his arms around Starsky's waist as he brought them both to the round with a tooth rattling crash. The brunet snarled, spinning in his captors grasp, fear lending him strength as he fought with his attacker, his fists and feet flying, but he was no match for the huge man despite an almost panther-like grace and the hunter's fist connected solidly with Starsky's jaw, knocking his head sideways. Stunned for a moment, the bounty hunter took his opportunity to grab Starsky by the collar and haul him back to his knees, pulling the brunet's arms harshly behind him to snap on the cuffs tightly.

As Starsky knelt swaying and unsteady in the dirt, Juanita ran up the hill and fell to her knees by her man, flinging her arms around his neck, her brother having run to the school to tell her what was going on.

'Keep away from him' she cried. 'He has done nothing. He's is not yours, he's mine.'

Softly, Starsky tried to calm her. 'S'ok honey. Sssh, s'ok. We can deal with this. It'll be alright' he mumbled, licking at his split lip and the blood trickling down the side of his mouth.

'Ok huh? I don't think so punk. I'm taking back to Bay City. There's a 50000 dollar reward on your head.'

Starsky squinted up at the man, his silhouette black against the bright sunlight stunned. 'On mine? Why? What did I do?'

'He's done nothing. This is all a mistake' Juanita persisted still holding the brunet round the neck.

The hunter prised her hands away and pulled Starsky to his feet. 'Nothing huh? I don't call attempted murder "nothing". Say goodbye honey. Your man aint ever gonna see the light of day again.'

As Starsky stared stunned at the bounty hunter and then walked docilely down the hill in front of him, Juanita fell to her knees in the dirt, sobbing, unable to believe what had just happened.


	34. Chapter 34

**Part 3 – Chapter 34**

Hutch, Traff and Dobey sat in the adjoining room to the interview room where Todd Rigger and Mark Barrie were playing good cop/bad cop with Edgar Fisher. While Barry sat passively at the side of the room, calmly rolling a cigarette and picking thoughtfully at his nails, Rigger was in danger of bursting a blood vessel in his attempt to get Fisher riled up enough to slip up and give them some information. While Rigger was going an attractive shade of puce however, Edgar Fisher sat bolt upright in his chair, his hands folded neatly on his lap and a small steady smile on his face.

'Rigger aint gettin' anywhere' Hutch observed bitterly. 'God I've seen some cold fish in my time, but usually by now they've broken. Todd's been at it for three hours straight and there's not so much as a chink in Fisher's armour.'

'Give him time' Dobey grunted. 'Everyone has their breaking point.'

'Uh huh. Everyone who's human. That guy has ice water running through his veins, not blood. He wouldn't know an emotion if it jumped up and bit him on the ass.'

Hutch stood up and started the pace the small interconnecting room just as Rigger worked himself into such a fury that he grabbed a hold of his prisoner by the collar and picked him up bodily, slamming him back against the interview room wall. Mark Barrie shot across the room and pulled his partner away from Fisher who had hardly blinked at the assault and put his own body between the two men. Rigger stared wild eyed at Fisher for a moment and then turned his back and stalked from the room. The three spectators watched Barrie give Fisher a cigarette and then follow Rigger outside.

Hutch ran for the door and joined Rigger and Barrie in the corridor. Barrie was getting Rigger a coffee from the machine and Todd Rigger was shaking and white with barely controlled fury.

'You're doin' your best Rigger' Hutch said. 'I've been there, I know what it's like with these flakes.'

'Fuck Hutch, I've seen enough of 'em in my time to know how to get under their skin, but this guy is somethin' else. It's like his body is sat there in the room, but his mind is somewhere else completely. I've never met a guy like him. I'm sorry buddy. I'm tryin' my best. I want to help put this flake away as much as you do.'

The blond patted the irate cop on his shoulder. 'I know you do, an' I'm grateful, I am really.' Wearily Hutch went back to join Dobey and Traff while Rigger and went back into the small room accompanied by Barrie. The three men watched again as Rigger slammed his hands down on the table and stared at Fisher. 'Now punk, take it from the top again. You picked David Starsky up at the hospital at what time?'

Traff sighed. 'He's not gonna talk is he?'

'It doesn't look that way, no' Dobey agreed.

'Jeez, is there a law that says I can't just go in there and wring his neck?' the soldier asked angrily. 'We're getting' nowhere, fast.'

Dobey snorted. 'Believe me, if I had my way I'd turn a blind eye while you pasted seven shades of shit out of him, but it aint my call. We just have to sit tight and let Barrie and Rigger do their thing.'

The three men sighed, and sat back to watch and wait.

Outside the Metro, a large black pick up truck pulled into the parking lot. The flames painted down the sides of the truck were partly hidden by the dust and grime of it's journey up from the border and the man cuffed in the large wire cage on the back of the truck was also grimy, his hair clogged with dust and his face dirty and streaked with sweat. The bounty hunter switched off the engine, got out of the truck and walked round to the rear of the vehicle. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the large padlock closing the caged area, drew his gun and signalled for his prisoner to get down from the truck.

Stiffly, Starsky stood, and bent double to stop his head from banging on the wire ceiling of his prison. He shuffled to the tailgate of the truck and with difficulty because his hands were cuffed behind his back, he got down and looked around him. His journey up from San Carlos had been relatively short, but uncomfortable. The truck was open to the elements at the back in the tough wire cage. It had hard wooden bench type seats along the sides of the vehicle, but there was no shelter from the sun, the grime or the wind whipping through when the truck drove at speed.

The physical discomfort though was nothing compared to the mental anguish of leaving Juanita and Miguel back in San Carlos. They were the only friends or family that the brunet knew or remembered and he was sickened at the fact that they now knew of his past. Hell, he was sickened now that he knew something of his past – that he was wanted for attempted murder and that he was a criminal on the run. The thought made him nauseous and he'd desperately tried to remember back to what he'd done and the circumstances around it, but each time he forced his mind to try to think, he'd got that same agonising pain in his head and he'd bent double, his head almost touching his knees as he fought with the pain and the nausea.

As the scrublands of the border country gave way to better quality metalled roads and small towns, the roads took on a familiar quality to them, although Starsky didn't know why. His mind, erased of all memory by Edgar Fisher's programming battled with itself as landmarks came and went. Even his surname had come as a surprise to him. Starsky…. The name meant something to him on a subliminal level, but he couldn't remember it and would never have known it unless the bounty hunter hadn't formally used it to arrest him. Starsky felt sick to his stomach, flashes of memory coming and going. All were disjointed and all were mere flashes with nothing that he could hold on to or concentrate on. There was nothing definite, just a gut feeling that he'd been here before and that somehow he was going back to a place he'd known well.

'Don't try nothin' punk' the bounty hunter grunted as he swung Starsky round and pushed him towards the custody entrance to the Metro.

'What'm I s'posed to do, trussed up like a turkey?' the brunet snapped, his fear and his anger wrestling with each other. He still couldn't come to terms with the thought that he was under arrest for attempted murder. Him? Who had he tried to murder? How? Swallowing down his emotions, the curly haired man walked slowly in front of his captor into the building.

The custody sergeant looked up, his eyes first falling on the huge bulk of the hunter. God he hated these guys. Most of them were inhumane and in it purely for the money. 'Yeah?' he asked.

'I'm here to hand this punk in and claim the reward' the bounty hunter grunted and pushed his captive forward. Starsky stood impassively, his hands locked behind his back, staring at his feet.

'Detective Starsky! Oh my God!' the young custody sergeant exclaimed, his pen dropping from his hand to clatter on the counter top. 'What the….'

'Yeah, one dirty cop, signed, sealed an' delivered. Sign the chitty an' I can take it down to county hall for the bail money' the huge man growled.

'You know me?' Starsky asked the uniformed man behind the desk softly. The bounty hunter cuffed him round the head none too gently.

'Shuddup. Aint no one talkin' to you.'

Swiftly the custody sergeant signed the big man's paper, anxious to get the hunter out of his hair. He examined the chit, amazed that it was for real and that the cop was indeed on the run and had been captured legitimately. As he took delivery of his prisoner, Minnie Caplan swung through the door with a sheaf of papers in her hand, took one look at the grimy curly haired cop, put her hand up to her mouth and bolted.

Starsky looked from the woman to the uniformed man, trying to make sense of what was going on. Detective? They'd called him detective! What the fuck?

The hunter took his paper and departed without a backwards glance and for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Finally Starsky, who had been standing warily in the corner broke it. 'You knew my name. How?'

Andy, the custody sergeant looked at him unbelievingly. 'Aww, nice one Starsk! What d'ya mean, how do I know your name?'

'What I said' the brunet said carefully. 'How do you know me? How come this place looks so familiar?'

The young man heard the peculiar intensity in the curly haired cop's voice and realised that this was no wind up. Starsky looked genuinely ill at ease and there was a misty far off look in his eyes. Something was definitely not right and Andy was downright uncomfortable with the situation. With this sort of thing being so far outside his experience and with the arrest warrant still in his hand, he did the only thing he could think to do.

'Um, I'm sorry Pal. I need to um… well you need to go into the cells. After that, I'll um….. I'll go and tell Dobey you're here. He'll be stoked.'

'Dobey? Dobey who?' the brunet asked, his heart hammering in his chest. This man knew him – knew who he was and yet he had no idea of how, or why. Too much of what was going on was outside his control and understanding and Starsky swallowed hard.

Andy too was having his own issues and chose to ignore the question, preferring to leave it to someone more senior to deal with. Starsky looked sick, like he needed a doctor, but rules were rules and he'd been legitimately arrested, and as much as it pained the young man to do, he knew his job. Andy pushed the door to the cell area open and stood back as the cuffed cop walked slowly and carefully in front of him and down to the end of the corridor. Pushing the door to the end cell open, he unlocked the cuffs binding the brunet's wrists and Starsky walked obediently into the cell, rubbing at the red welts on his wrists. He turned as he heard the gate clang shut and wrapped his hands around the bars.

'Do I know this place? You called me Detective. Why?'

Andy smiled shakily. This was too much and he patted one of Starsky's hands gently. 'I don't know what's the matter with you Starsk, but you work here. You're a cop.'

Upstairs, Minnie ran headlong down the corridor and knocked on the room next to Fisher's interview room. Dobey came to the door and she motioned him outside and before he had chance to say anything she blurted out. 'Starsky's alive. He's downstairs in the cells. I've just seen him.'

Dobey's face paled. 'He's…. you sure it's him?' he asked uncertainly.

Minnie gave him a pitying look. Everyone knew that she and the brunet made an art form out of flirting with each other. 'Would I mistake Dave Starsky for anyone else? It's him. He's alive.'

Dobey walked back into the room just as Rigger was winding up for another go at Fisher. He patted Hutch on the shoulder. The blond brushed him off. 'Not now Cap'n, Todd's goin' in for the kill.'

'Hutch, son….um. I think you should come down to the cells with me.'

'What? Right now? Can't it wait?' Hutch asked.

'No, I don't think so' Dobey said shakily. 'You too Traff. You um…. You need to see this.'

Both men looked at each other and followed the black man out of the room and down the corridor. They paused outside the cell area and as Andy unlocked the door, Dobey took a hold of Hutch's arm.

'Hutch, I think there's someone you need to see' he said quietly.

The look on Dobey's face was enough to alert Hutch to something going on. 'Who? What?' he asked.

'Just go down there an' see.'

'Cap'n I'm not in the mood for games. Who is it?' the blond snapped.

'Just do it Hutch. Go' Dobey pushed the big blond gently.

In a daze, Hutch and Traff walked down to the end of the line of cells and as they reached the end one, Hutch looked in through the bars and took an involuntary step back, his face paling significantly.

'Starsk? Oh my God buddy, is that you?' he asked softly, as though not believing his eyes.

The man in the cell had been sitting with his back to the door and now he turned at the voice and looked directly at the flaxen haired cop and his soldier buddy. For a split second there was recognition in those indigo eyes, but it was quickly extinguished and Hutch's desire for a fond reunion was dashed.

Starsky took a faltering step to the front of the cell, but stood one pace away from the bars, his hands by his side and his head cocked in that oh so familiar way of his.

'You know me too?' he asked huskily.

'Know you? Oh Jeez buddy, what did he do to ya?'

The brunet took the final step t the bars and stared out from the cell. 'You really know me?'

'Only for the past 10 years buddy' Hutch said gently. At his side Traff smiled encouragingly.

'You're amongst friends now Curly. Rest easy huh while we figure out how to get you out of here.'

'But the warrant said I was accused of attempted murder. What did I do? Who did I try to kill?' Starsky's throat had gone dry. He thought he should remember these two men, but instead there was still the huge black wall in his mind, robbing him of his past.

'It doesn't matter Starsk. You're home now and we're gonna watch your back. It's still gonna be Me and..'

'Thee' the word was almost a whisper and Hutch grabbed for the brunet's hand wrapped around the bars.

'What did you say?' the blond asked softly.

Indigo eyes met his crystalline blues and bored into his soul. 'Hutch?' Starsky asked hesitantly. He had chance for one final look before a blinding pain ripped through his head and he fell to his knees on the ground his hands up to his temples, moaning at the agony.


	35. Chapter 35

**Part 3 – Chapter 35**

Hutch felt sick to his stomach and with a growl he turned away from the cell. 'Stay with him' he told Traff as he bolted for the door, Dobey hot on his heels.

'Hutchinson where are you going?' the Captain yelled as he followed the fleeing blond.

'Don't try an' stop me' Hutch flung over his shoulder. 'I'm gonna get to the bottom of this. I'm gonna get the story from the horses mouth once and for all.'

Ignoring the angina-like pain in his chest, Hutch took the steps up to the next floor two at a time and sprinted along the corridor to the interview room occupied by Rigger, Barrie and Fisher. He burst in on them, making Rigger look up in surprise, but neither interviewer had chance to stop the golden whirlwind as he whisked past them, took a hold of Fisher by the neck and pulled him bodily to his feet. Even the cool and calm Edgar Fisher's eyes flew wide open as he came face to face with the furious cop and Hutch slammed him back against the wall, his hands tightening significantly around the thin man's neck.

'Your plan failed ya sick bastard. My partner survived an' he's downstairs. He's gonna tell us exactly what you did to those kids, but it'd be easier on you if you told me first' Hutch ground out, staring coldly into Fisher's eyes. The older man regained his composure with admirable timeliness and he smiled back at Hutch, although there was no warmth in the watery blue eyes.

'David won't tell you anything, I know that for sure' he said calmly. 'You don't have a thing on me, and you won't ever have.'

Imperceptibly, the blond cop's fingers tightened and Fisher stiffened slightly, rising up on his toes as he fought for breath. Hutch shook him slightly.

'You know that do ya? What did you do to him?'

'Does he know you detective? Is David the man you used to know, or is he a stranger? More to the point, are you a stranger to him?'

Hutch's lips whitened as he fought to keep his temper. 'I'm gonna ask you one last time asshole. What have you done to my buddy?'

'Nothing very much. He's doing it to himself. I merely planted a suggestion and now his mind is torturing his body when he tries to remember. I haven't laid a finger on him, I swear.'

'Tell me how to stop the cycle.'

Fisher smiled that infuriating smile. 'You can't. He's locked into it. Memories mean pain, it's a simple equation. Enjoy your new friend. Think of it as a challenge getting to know him again. You never know, he might not like you the second time around. After all, he tried to kill you last time.'

Hutch let out an animal yell and started to squeeze his fingers round Fisher's throat. The thin man gurgled, his eyes bulging as Dobey and Rigger struggled to disengage the blond cop from his hold. Hutch fought manfully, his temper now lost completely at Fisher's inflammatory words, but eventually Dobey pulled him away from his target. The blond continued to struggle in the black man's grip as Dobey manhandled him towards the door.

'I'm gonna nail you sucker. I'm gonna make sure you never see the light of day. Have they told you about the tapes? I found 'em you know. I found all of 'em an' I know what you've done. You sanctimonious bastard, I'll make sure you get the fuckin' death penalty.'

For a moment, at the mention of the tapes, fear flashed across Fishers face, but he recovered his composure quickly and stared back at the angry blond cop, smiling, but saying nothing more. Dobey hauled Hutch from the room and closed the door behind him as the blond clutched at the pain in his chest and cursed, bracing himself on his outstretched arm against the corridor wall as he fought to regain his composure.

'What the hell did you think you were doing Hutchinson?' Dobey yelled, his face angry. 'Threatening someone like Fisher isn't the way to go and you know it'.

'You saw Starsk…. or the man that looks like Starsky. Shit Cap, if Fisher can hypnotise him enough to shoot me, what else has he done at him huh? And how am I gonna get him back? He looked so…. lost. I needed to do something.'

'Yeah, you did, but not that, throttling him won't solve anything. Now Fisher knows we've got the tapes and he can start preparing some other sort of defence. Nice move!'

Defeated, the blond looked up. ''M sorry. I…. I need to get back downstairs to Starsky, but I still feel like I need to do something.' His face held a hint of hope. 'I need to call Beth…. and Liz. Can you do that for me Cap'n, please? It's important.'

Dobey's attitude softened. 'Sure' he grunted. 'Get back to Starsky, I'll do the phoning. Go.'

Without a backwards glance, Hutch walked slowly back down to the cells and made his way along the narrow dimly lit corridor to find Traff still kneeling by the side of the bars. Inside the cell, Starsky was sitting on the ground, his back against the wall, holding his head and rocking as though in pain. The soldier got to his feet as Hutch appeared and the two men moved away from the front of the cell.

'How's he doin'?' Hutch asked softly.

'He's like a stranger. He don't recognise me, or the Metro. It's like his mind's a blank. What did you get out of Fisher? That is where you went shooting off to isn't it?'

'Yeah, but he's tight. Never said a word' Hutch replied bitterly.

'Did he even admit he'd done somethin' to Curly?'

'No, he just somethin' about a suggestion and Starsky tortouring himself.'

Traff sighed. 'Damn! He looks like he's in pain when he tries to remember anything.'

'Yeah, well that part Fisher did tell me. He said somethin' about him being locked into a cycle and the more he tried to remember the more he'd hurt. Bastard!'

'Look, I think it would be better if I left you two alone. He seemed to recognise you and I think any more people around him at the moment would just muddy the waters' Traff said gently.

Hutch nodded. 'Yeah, I guess. Dobey's phoning Beth and Liz, I thought maybe Beth could help him and we need Liz to make sure he doesn't have to go back to the Pen. Maybe you could stick around and talk to them when they arrive? Bring them up to speed? I'll um… well I have no idea what I'm gonna do.'

Traff patted the blond gently on the shoulder. 'You'll fine a way. If anyone can, you two will be able to work it out together.' As the soldier walked away, Hutch sighed and called Andy over.

'Let me into the cell?'

'I dunno Hutch. I shouldn't. Rules say….'

'Fuck the rules! C'mon Andy, it's me an' Starsk. I promise we aren't gonna do anythin'. C'mon buddy, just let me in huh?'

The young man had a moment of indecision before grabbing his keys and opening the cell door. Hutch walked in slowly and carefully, eager not to scare the brunet. He winced as he heard the door clang shut and locked behind him as Starsky looked up.

'Hey buddy. How're ya doin?' Hutch asked quietly.

The brunet snorted softly. 'You tell me. Everyone here seems to know me better'n I know myself.'

'Well, we're gonna try to fix that. Will you let us help?' Hutch came to sit down beside his partner, not too close, giving the brunet some space. He rested his back against the wall and waited.

'You know me don't you?' Starsky asked, his eyes staring carefully at the wall opposite as though not wanting to remember too much.

'Yeah, you could say that' Hutch said, feeling surreal in the extreme. 'Starsk, I know that rememberin' hurts you, and I know why, but I don't know how much to tell you without ya being overwhelmed. I don't want to make you hurt again buddy.'

'Try me. I think not knowing hurts just as much as my head exploding. I'll tell you if it gets too much. I feel like I know you and I feel like I know this place, and the cop on the door called me detective and said I was a cop, but I don't remember.'

'Trust me?' Hutch asked softly. For a moment, familiar indigo eyes bored into his and Starsky knitted his eyebrows in concentration.

'I get the sense I used to. Has anything changed?'

'Not for me buddy, no. We were partners, cops…. for a long time. Over ten years.'

'Were?'

'Well we still are, but things happened' Hutch said hesitantly.

'Yeah? Like me attemtin' to murder someone' the brunet snorted softly. 'That's why that bounty hunter picked me up. Who?…. And how?'

Hutch refused to flinch from the question. 'Starsk, there's another guy, someone we were both investigating. He um…. well he made you do it Starsk, you weren't accountable for your actions.'

Light dawned in the deep blue eyes and Starsky looked down at his hands, almost lost for words. 'Made me? As in instructed me? Or forced me? What? And who? Oh, my god! It was you wasn't it? I tried to kill you.'

'You remember?' Hutch asked.

'No, thank God, but it was you wasn't it?'

'Yeah, you shot me. Three months ago, but it wasn't you Starsk, you were forced to do it, I don't blame you.'

'Forced how? Tell me.'

Hutch wondered. Would telling Starsky somehow upset the balance he'd achieved, or would it help? God he wished Beth was here to give him some guidance. Deciding to err on the side of caution, the blond shook his head. 'Later buddy. We can talk about that later. Like I say, I don't blame you.'

Starsky looked away. 'Maybe I blame me. Or at least I would if I could remember. Shit, this is a lot to take in. This mornin' I was just some turkey with no past fixin' cars. Now I'm a cop who tried to murder his partner. And the freaky thing is, I see you and…. This is gonna sound crazy but when I was sick, when Juanita picked my up from the ocean, I saw you in my dreams. I knew you were important to me but I didn't know why and I didn't know who you were. I still don't really remember you. We were close….and you say we still are. I look at you and I feel like I'm looking at my brother – if I have one. I know your face and I know your voice and I remember….shit!' The brunet clutched at his head again and bent it to his knees.

Automatically, Hutch reached out and pulled the brunet into an embrace and instead of pulling away, Starsky rested his forehead on Hutch's chest as the blond rubbed circles onto his back, the inherent closeness taking over from memory and programming. 'Easy partner…. Don't think, don't try to remember. We're gonna get through this, I promise.'

Hutch's velvet voice soothed through Starsky's fears and for a while they stayed like that, each man taking comfort from the other. For a while Hutch could almost believe that things were back to normal and he had his partner back. Eventually though, Starsky pushed himself away and looked up into the blond's face.

'Sorry' he mumbled.

'For what? We both needed that. Better now?'

Starsky snickered. 'Better? Dunno. You tell me. Am I better? Am I gonna start shootin' you again? Am I gonna go to prison?' Suddenly the bars seemed to close round him and the brunet closed his eyes, a vision of a tall man in a dark blue uniform standing over him overwhelmed him. A feeling of foreboding and the feeling that something bad was going to happen flooded him and he moaned softly grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes.

'What? What is it?' Hutch asked worriedly.

'Dunno…..memories? I…was I in jail before?'

'Yeah, do you remember?'

'Kinda…. Big guy. He's standing in front of me and he's…. he's….. Noooo, please God no.'

Immediately, Hutch reached for Starsky again but the smaller man jerked himself away, breathing deeply, the blurry memory of Rafferty's violation leaving him feeling raw and dirty. Slowly he lifted his head. 'If that's what I'm gonna remember, I don't wanna go there' he mumbled and rested his head back against the wall, his eyes closed.

'There's lots of things you do want to remember though' Hutch said. 'We had good times together and you've got friends who want to see you again.'

'Yeah? The guy that was here with you knew me, didn't he?'

'That was Traff. Tom Trafford. You knew him before you knew me. You served in the Army together.'

'Wow! I was a soldier?' Starsky's eyebrows raised.

'Uh huh, and you've been a cab driver too.'

'Ok, Army, cabs and cop. Don't seem too bad. I can handle that. I thought you were gonna tell me I was one of those geeks that drove flash cars and liked expensive cameras.'

Hutch's face broke into a broad grin.

'What? Starsky asked with the shadow of his former self shining through. 'What did I say?'

'Um, nothin; buddy. Just um… when you get out of here, you're in for a surprise.'


	36. Chapter 36

**Part 3 – Chapter 36**

The two men sat in the cell and chatted about generalities for most of the night. While Hutch found it touching in the extreme that Juanita and Miguel Cortez had rescued Starsky from the ocean and had taken him in and cared for him, the brunet was also beginning to get up to speed with his life and his background.

It was tiring for the curly haired cop though and towards 4:00am, his eyelids were drooping and his head, resting back against the wall, started to lol to one side.

'Starsk, why don't you go lie down huh?' Hutch asked. The cell provided one narrow cot arranged down one side of the small area and although it didn't look exactly comfortable it was better than the floor.

'What about you? You look like you've still got some healing to do' Starsky replied sleepily.

The blond smiled to himself. That part of his buddy was still there – the empathy and the care he'd always taken of his partner were entrenched bone deep and even Fisher's conditioning couldn't erase that. He shook his had.

'I'll be fine. I have some stuff to do anyway. Are you ok if I leave for a while? I'll be back.

'You will?' there was hope and just a little fear in the brunet's voice.

'Course. I've never consciously left you before buddy.'

Starsky snickered. 'I'll have to take your word for that.' Stiffly he rose and padded over to the cot. There was a single pillow on it and the smaller man doubled it over and rested his head on it, inserting his feet under the single blanket. Almost immediately, his eyes closed and his breathing calmed. Hutch resisted the urge to card his fingers through the chocolate coloured curls. Instead, he gently pulled the blanket up over his partner's body and in his sleep, Starsky snuggled into it, burying his nose into the warm, soft fabric.

Quietly, Hutch called for Andy, who let him out of the cell just as Traff appeared at the door to the small area with two stunning women in tow. Hutch kissed Beth briefly on the cheek and smiled at Liz. 'Council of war time' he said tiredly as they headed upstairs and along to the squad room on the second floor.

It was fairly quiet at that time of the early morning and those men who were in there, having competed their arrests for the night, or needing to catch up on paperwork looked up as the flaxen haired cop and his three friends walked into the room.

'Hey Hutch! How's it hangin' man? Ramirez asked from his desk in the corner. 'I thought you were gonna be laid up for a while longer.'

'Yeah, well, things happened and um…. well I'm doin' ok. Is Dobey still around?'

Ramirez pointed with his chin. 'In his office. Don't he ever go home?'

Hutch grinned briefly. 'Not right now, no.' he ushered Traff and the two women into the office and closed the door.

Dobey looked up and smiled when he saw the two women and indicated for them to sit down. He brought them cups of coffee and then got down to business.

'So, we have him back thank God. How was he Hutch? Does he remember anything at all?'

The blond shook his head. 'Nada. He's scared I think, and who wouldn't be. He told me that he'd been rescued from the ocean by a Mexican family and he was paying for his keep by fixing cars in the guy's garage. We've talked generally about who he is and…..God this is so strange! It's like I'm talking to my best friend but he's really someone else.'

Beth patted him on the knee. 'Now we have him back and safe and away from Edgar Fisher we can start to work on that.'

'How? He's like he never existed before Fisher got a hold of him. You think you can make him right again?' the flaxen haired cop asked.

'I'm gonna give it a helluva try.'

'First things first. What do you want me to do at the hearing this morning?' Liz asked. She looked at her watch. 'They're going to want him down at the courthouse in three hours.'

Dobey tapped the end of his pencil on the table. 'What do you suggest?'

Liz was immediately in full lawyer mode and all business. 'Well lets see. What have we got so far. Originally we had two different sets of proceedings, yes? We had the sentence hearing for Dave because he refused to plead not guilty to shooting Hutch. We also have the trial of Edgar Fisher for the murder of at least six youths at the children's home.'

Everyone nodded in agreement so Liz continued.

'As I see it, we have sufficient evidence to ask the court to move for an acquittal of David Starsky. If I get the right Judge and if I can persuade him to listen to the tapes that Hutch found, we're home and dry. The evidence is all on there, that Fisher had an enormous influence on Starsky and that he wasn't acting in his right mind. There's only one thing that might stand in the way.'

'Which is?' Traff asked.

'Which is that Dave is still clearly not himself. The Judge would want some proof that he was going to be rehabilitated. He may suggest that Dave is committed to Cabrillo Point.'

'Over my dead body. We've both had experience of that hell hole' Hutch snapped. 'There's got to be another way.'

'There may be' Beth said quietly. 'Would it improve chances if Dave was to voluntarily go into therapy at a secure institution?'

Liz nodded. 'Absolutely.'

'I've just said I won't let you send him to Cabrillo' Hutch said.

'He won't need to. I run a small private clinic on the north side of the city. It's up in the hills. It's secure, but it's quiet and not at all like Cabrillo or jail. If we could persuade Dave to check himself in, how do you think the Judge would view that?'

Liz smiled. 'I think he'd view it rather well. So, with Dave dealt with, that just leaves him being the star witness in Fisher's trial, which is in two weeks time. Do we move for an adjournment, or do you think Dave will be fit to go into the box in two weeks?'

Beth pursed her lips. 'I honestly don't know. There could be a quick fix, or it could take months. The mind is a strange thing to deal with and Dave's mind has been seriously compromised.'

'That could prove troublesome' the lawyer said quietly.

'How so? We've got him. We've got the tapes' Traff said. 'How can it be "troublesome"?'

'She means that a clever lawyer will seek to have the tapes excluded from Fisher's trial, and if they are, the defence can move that there's no other evidence to try Fisher on, if Starsk isn't fit to be called' Hutch responded bitterly.

Liz snapped her notebook shut. 'Look, let's just take one thing at a time huh? First we get David out and we get him the care he needs. Once he's free of the courts, Beth can work her magic and we can deal with Fisher later.'

The four rose and Dobey shook Liz and Beth's hands. 'I can't thank you enough for helping my man. Lord knows he deserves a break.'

The women smiled. 'We'll do whatever we can Beth said as they slowly walked to the door of the office. 'Just keep your fingers crossed that we can swing it with the Judge to begin with. I'll head back and get a room set up for him. Hutch, I guess you'll want to stay with him?'

'Huh? Could I? Is that ok?' the blond asked.

'Have you two ever been separated before?' Beth grinned.

'Not through choice, no. Thanks honey, I'll see you after the hearing.' They stepped outside and moved a little way up the corridor away from Traff and Liz who were also in deep conversation. Again Hutch kissed the woman and she responded, trailing her finger down the side of the blond's face. She giggled. 'I'd at least have a shave before the hearing. And get Dave tidied up too huh? See you later.'

Hutch nodded, watching her go and headed down to the locker rooms, thankful that Starsky and he always kept a change of clothes in there for emergencies. He grabbed his partner's soft, pale blue jeans and a dark blue shirt, a bar of soap and a towel and headed back down to the cells. Andy was about to go off duty when he got there and thankfully, Frank Sayer, an old timer was taking over. Hutch and Starsky both knew him from way back and he waved Hutch through the cells enclosure, opened the cell door to Starsky's holding cell and waited while the blond roused his partner and they headed for the showers.

Half an hour later, washed, shaved and dressed, both men looked and smelled fresher and were back in the cell waiting. Both had lost weight during their separate ordeals and Hutch had tried to keep his left side away from the brunet when they'd showered, hoping that Starsky wouldn't see the bullet wounds and the surgical scars surrounding them. They'd healed well, but were still red and raised. It was difficult to hide them and finally he'd turned and was met by apologetic indigo eyes. Starsky looked from Hutch's scars to his own and had snorted softly.

'I know you said we're close, but Jeez, do we have to have matching scars too?' he'd asked quietly.

'Hey, I was jealous. What more can I say?' Hutch had smiled, trying to brush it off.

'I'm sorry' Starsky had said softly. 'You know I….'

'Starsk, shudup will ya. You never were one for soapy scenes. It's done. It's in the past and I'm still here. End. OK?'

'It won't end till I can remember again, but for now, I'll shut up, yeah' the brunet had said and had set to towelling his own thinner body vigorously.

Hutch snickered. 'Well that'd be a first!'

Finally at about nine o'clock, Sergeant Sayer came down the corridor and opened the cell dorr. 'You've got a hearing at 10:00. Are you going together?' he asked, already knowing the answer.

'Uh huh' Hutch replied immediately.

Sayer grunted. 'Thought as much. I should really have you taken in the transport vehicle down to the courthouse, but I can't do that Starsky, I've know you too long. So long as you promise no tricks, why don't you just go along in Hutch's car huh?'

The brunet nodded. 'Thanks' he said, wondering who this new guy was. He was getting used to Hutch being by his side. In fact it was almost as though they'd never been apart although he remembered nothing of the way they'd been. He followed Hutch out of the cell complex and down to the police garage. As he walked through the door and out into the fresh air however, he staggered back against the wall, his eyes closed as he felt, rather than heard gunfire. Hutch caught him and held him up.

'Starsk? What is it buddy?'

'Dunno. I just got a real weird feelin'. Like…. like something bad happened to me, but I don't know what. I…. I feel like…..oh shit, I do remember something. Layin' on the floor and there's gunshots and you… you're shouting my name.'

The blond held on to his partner tighter. 'This is where you were shot buddy. Damn, if you're gonna start rememberin' that's not the best first memory Pal. C'mon, let's get you out of here huh?'

The drive over to the courthouse was short and as the two men walked inside, Liz was waiting for them. She smiled and kissed Starsky lightly on the cheek. 'Dave, good to see you again' she said gently.

The brunet looked at her and smiled. There was no recognition in his eyes, but he was becoming accustomed to people knowing him without him knowing them. And if those people included stunningly beautiful women, who was he to argue. 'Hi' he said shyly.

'You don't remember me?' she asked.

The brunet shook his head. 'Regretfully no. Who are you?'

'Liz. Liz Abraham. I'm your lawyer and we um…. we used to be an item.'

Starsky coloured up. 'Oh! And why was I fool enough to give you up?' he asked.

Liz giggled. 'Well actually I gave you up, but let's just keep on track shall we? I've checked and we're in luck. We have Judge Webster this morning. He's old school, but fair. I think things will go well. Shall we go up to court 6?'

The two men followed, Starsky's eyes on the tightly skirted ass in front of him, his head cocked on one side in a familiar pose. Hutch looked at him and snickered to himself. Some things about his partner never changed! They walked into the courtroom and sat at the back until the case was called on. As Liz and Starsky walked to the front and took their seats at the left hand desk, the prosecutor shuffled his papers and glanced across.

The Judge looked up. 'Miss Abraham. Care to tell me where you client absconded to?'

Liz launched into her explanation and Webster listened carefully. 'Your Honour the case of the People versus David Starsky is inextricably linked with the case of the People v Edgar Fisher which is due for hearing in two weeks time, I believe before Your Honour. Defence submits that Edgar Fisher exercised hypnotic influence over my client in an attempt to have him kill his partner Kenneth Hutchinson.'

Starsky wanted to leap to his feet, an overwhelming urge to yell that Edgar had nothing to do with this on his lips. Had it not been for the swift way the matter was dealt with, he felt he would have been compelled to say something, but instead, he kept his silence and stared hard at the table.

The prosecutor stood, 'Objection Your Honour. Conjecture. And this is a bail hearing, not a trial.'

Webster fixed the man with a steely eye. 'Objection overruled. Lets' see what the counsellor has to say first shall we? Carry on Miss Abraham.'

Liz licked her lips nervously. 'I have tapes, recovered from Edgar Fisher's house to prove the hypnotic influence of Fisher over my client, and that the same influence was used to force David Starsky to jump bail. Your Honour, those tapes are at court and I make application for you to hear them in chambers.'

Once again the prosecutor was half way onto his feet before the Judge sighed. 'Don't even bother counsellor. Save your breath. You have the tapes with you? Then both of you join me in my room.' the Judge got up and the two lawyer dutifully followed him into the back room. Half an hour later, they emerged, Liz smiling and the Prosecutor looking like a wet weekend. The Judge waited until everyone had resumed their places and then cleared his throat.

'David Starsky, stand up. This court has heard the tapes of your conversations with Edgar Fisher. They're both compelling and unsettling. They are also sufficient to show that you were not acting in your right mind when you committed the crime against Mr Hutchinson, and when you skipped your bail. Is Mr Hutchinson here?'

Hutch stood up. 'Um… here.'

'Detective, it's this court's intention that the case of attempted murder against David Michael Starsky be formally dropped. The only thing standing in the way of that ruling is your wishes as the aggrieved. We need your views and we will give you time to consider.'

'I don't need time, Your Honour. I know Starsky would never have shot me unless something or someone else was influencing him. I never wanted the trial in the first place' Hutch said definitely.

'In that case, the case of the People versus David Michael Starsky is hereby closed, on the understanding that the defendant submit himself for treatment at….'

'Pine View Clinic, your Honour' Liz prompted.

'……at Pine View clinic. Case dismissed. Mr Starsky, you're free to go.'

And with those few words, the months of hell seemed to come to an end for the brunet. He walked from the courtroom with Hutch and Liz and kissed the woman on the cheek when they got outside.

'I can't find words to thank ya' he said simply.

'No need Dave. Now just get up to Beth's clinic and get well huh?' the lawyer said.

Behind her, a different lawyer, who had been sitting at the back of the courtroom, made a mental note of location and hurried off to make a phone call.


	37. Chapter 37

**Part 3 – Chapter 37**

Hutch briefly phoned Dobey to give him the good news about Starsky's acquittal. He felt torn in two, Half of him wanted to shout and jump and generally break open a magnum of champagne to celebrate Starsky's final freedom, while the other half of him yearned to have his partner back with him in mind as well as body. It seemed a hollow victory that the curly haired man should be exonerated of all crimes, and yet still be suffering from the effects of his treatment at the hands of Edgar Fisher. Whatever happened, the one thing Hutch knew for sure was that he was going to make sure Fisher got the heaviest penalty available and that even if it wasn't the death penalty, he would be given life imprisonment for the deaths of the youngsters and the maltreatment of his buddy.

For his own part, Starsky sat quietly in the car on the drive up into the foothills. So much had happened to him in the past 36 hours that his mind was a complete whirl even without putting himself through the torture of trying to remember times before Juanita found him in the ocean. He thought constantly about the young Mexican woman, his body twitching when he thought about their tender love making. One of the questions he'd asked Hutch during their talk in the cell the previous night had been whether he had a girl, or even more importantly, whether he was married. He'd breathed a sigh of relief when the blond had assured him that so far, he'd been a committed bachelor, but that it wasn't for the want of trying. Again, Hutch hadn't gone into details, afraid that if he started to prompt the brunet too much, the pains in his head would return and push him over the edge. Thoughts of describing Rosie and Terri were too far in the future and for the time being, Hutch had kept it general.

Starsky also thought a great deal about the man sat next to him, driving quietly and confidently through the morning traffic. Hutch obviously meant a great deal to him. Even without his memories, Starsky knew without a shadow of a doubt that they had been close. He felt their bond even now and was thankful that he had a friend who was as rock steady as the blond. Who else would accept being gunned down without any recriminations?

And what of this mysterious man, this Edgar Fisher? What connection did he have with Starsky? At the mention of his name, the brunet felt compelled to defend Fisher against the world. Liz had told the Judge that Fisher had hypnotised him, but Starsky couldn't remember even meeting the man, let alone being close enough to be hypnotised by him. Having said that, the brunet allowed himself only a few stolen moments of introspection, guarding himself against the bone crushing pains that shot through his head when he tried to think back too hard. His head was fucked. he admitted that, and the prospect of Pine View Clinic filled him with both dread, and a certain amount of hope.

As the road started to climb out of the valley the harsh scrubby grass at the roadside gave way to open fields and the occasional tree. Further up into the foothills, it became apparent why the clinic had been given its name and pine trees started to line the hillside in serried rows, sheltering the road from the harsh sunlight and allowing dappled sunbeams to dance across the blacktop. Hutch wound down the window and took a deep breath of pine scented air.

'Get a lungful of that partner' he said heartily. 'Nothing like mountain air to invigorate and get the blood circulating.'

'You think? I was just thinkin' that I'd have preferred to be in the city. Looks too wild up here in the hills.'

'Well that's the Starsky I know' Hutch chuckled. 'You never were one for the great outdoors buddy.'

'No, didn't think so. I found a magazine in a truck I was fixing at Miguel's garage. It had a picture of the Statue of Liberty and Brooklyn Bridge. They seemed to mean something to me. They made me feel better than this greenery. God! Bugs, and damp and….'

'I know, not a burrito in sight' the blond finished. 'And New York would mean something to you. You were born there.'

'I was? Wow! No wonder I recognised the pictures. Fuck! This is so damned crazy. You're explaining to me my whole life an' I don't recall any of it. Are my Mom and Dad still alive? Have I got brothers and sisters? When did I leave? When did I meet you? Too many questions, and if I think too much, I get a feelin' the answers are just around the corner. Like they're hidin' and they want to come out, but then the pains in my head start an' I can't help but stop thinkin'. I hate this…. An' if I'm truthful, it scares the crap out of me. You said I knew Liz, the lawyer. She said we were an item. I didn't know this woman we're gonna see now too did I?'

Hutch grinned. 'Slow down buddy. I could spend a day answering all your questions and I'll do whatever I can to help you remember again, but you gotta take it slow.'

'Hutch, I'm…. fuck I don't even know how old I am!' Starsky threw up his hands is despair.

'35 buddy. You're 6 months older'n me and your birthday is March 11th. You were born in Brooklyn, New York and your Dad was a cop. Your Mom still lives in New York State with your younger brother Nicky.'

'And my Dad? You said he was a cop.'

'Yeah he um…. he's dead. He was killed in the line of duty. I'm sorry.'

For a moment Starsky looked at his hands. 'Don't be. I don't remember him anyhow' he said sadly. 'And this woman we're going to see?'

'Not a girlfriend. She's mine, all mine buddy boy. Hands off.'

It was Starsky's turn to smile. 'She might turn out to prefer dark haired guys. Who knows what'll happen if she has her wily way with me?' he wiggled his eyebrows in a typical Starsky fashion.

'Most of 'em turn out to prefer brunets' Hutch said with feeling. He slowed the car as they approached a broad driveway with a sign proclaiming "Pine View Clinic for the treatment of Mental Disorders". Starsky cringed at the description and took a deep breath.

'Looks like I'm officially crazy then.'

Hutch shook his head. 'Not crazy Starsk, but you do need help, and this is the place to get it.'

'I know. I'm just a little tetchy from not knowin' who I am. Ignore me huh?'

They drove up the broad sweep of drive and came to a large old colonial style villa, painted white and with large bow windows looking out onto a well manicured lawn surrounded by tall pine trees. As they got out of the car, the cooler air felt good on overheated skin and both men stretched before Hutch took two small holdalls from the trunk of the car. 'Traff packed some clothes for us' he explained as they walked up the gracious steps and into the black and white tiles hallway of the house.

A receptionist looked up and smiled at the two handsome men. 'Can I help?'

'Um, David Starsky and Ken Hutchinson. Beth Knot was expecting us' Hutch explained. The receptionist nodded and produced a sheet of paper. She held it out to Starsky. This is your voluntary surrender to the clinic. You need to sign this and then I'll see you both to your rooms.'

'Voluntary surrender huh? Makes me sound like I'm gonna be a prisoner...again' the brunet said quietly. The receptionist said nothing. She watched as the handsome man signed the form and took it from him, filing it neatly into a pink coloured folder. Getting up from her desk, she took two sets of keys. 'Follow me please' she said and walked up a flight of stairs and along a carpeted corridor.

The clinic reminded Hutch of an expensive hotel. There was patterned wilton carpet on the floor and small side tables with floral displays and lamps on them lined the walls of the broad corridor. There were doors to left and right and the receptionist stopped at one about half way down. 'David, this is your room and Ken will be right next door. There's a connecting door too.' She unlocked the first door and opened it, allowing Starsky to see a large, open airy room decorated in calming blues and greys. A queen sized bed stood against one wall and another door led through to a private bathroom. At the opposite side of the room a connecting door led into a mirror image room decorated in green and with its own bathroom off. Depositing the holdalls onto the bed, Hutch thanked the receptionist who dimpled a smile at them and left, leaving the two keys on the table by the door.

'Well it's a mink lined prison' Starsky observed as he went to the window and looked at the view down over the hillside.

'Starsk, it's not meant to be a prison. This is to get you back to normal. Think of it as a paid vacation. We can do some walkin'. I saw a lake on the way up so we could fish.'

'See, I knew it was gonna be crap' the brunet moaned good naturedly. He turned as there was a knock on the door and Beth poked her head around.

'Hey Dave. Good news about the case huh? What's it feel like to be a free man again?'

'Dunno. Ask me when I've got my marbles back an' I'm outa here' the curly haired man said not recognising the woman, but surmising that this was Beth, Hutch's new girl.

'Well we're gonna start working on that just as soon as you've settled in.'

'No time like the present' Starsky said mildly. 'What delights do you have in store for me Doc?'

'Well, I think we need to start working on breaking down the conditioning you've been subject to. I need to speak to you both, but I'm gonna take Hutch away first and talk to him, if that's ok. I'll be back for you in half an hour or so. Can you amuse yourself while we're away?'

Starsky smiled. 'Sure. I'll sit and watch the tree rats for a while. Go ahead and have a good time with Blondie.'

Hutch followed the woman outside. He paused at the door and looked back at his partner who was perching on the edge of the bed looking a little lost. He winked. 'Be right back buddy.'

Starsky grinned back briefly. 'Just go huh? Don't keep your lady waitin'.'

Beth led Hutch down the stairs and along to the back of the big house, pushing open a door to the treatment rooms. Here, things were different, looking more like a standard hospital with tiled floors and pale green walls, small treatment rooms opening off to left and right. She led him to an office at the end and they sat down by a desk.

'So, the tapes. I haven't had a chance to hear them, but I take it you have. What can you tell me about them?' Beth asked without preamble.

'They sickened me' Hutch said honestly. 'The ones I heard started with a general conversation between Edgar and Starsky. It was like they were getting to know each other and Fisher kept calling him David – it was like he was lulling him into a false sense of security. They went on from there. The next tapes were Fisher telling him he needs to test how much Starsky trusts him.

'Yes, that's as far as we got in the jail, when I had Dave under the drugs. I wanted to know if the tapes revealed anything else?'

'Like what?' Hutch asked, thinking back to the fourth tape that he'd taken to the end of the pier and thrown out into the ocean. That tape had born the sounds of Edgar Fisher forcing Starsky to violate himself and the blond had vowed that no one would ever hear that, not even his partner.

Beth pursed her lips. 'There must have been a trigger word. There must have been some method of Fisher getting under Dave's skin. For the most part, he acted fairly normally, right?'

Hutch nodded.

'So there must have been some word – we call it a trigger word – that he would have planted in Dave's mind, probably in his last contact with him, to enable him to have full control over him when it came to shooting you. I think that same trigger word is the secret to unlocking Dave's mind now. We find the word and we find the key.'

Hutch's face fell. 'In his last contact, you say?'

'Yes, it would have to be something that he didn't use in every day life. Something that Edgar could use to start the hypnotic trance. But that's ok. If we can get hold of the final tape, we can listen to it. I'm sure I'd recognise the word if I heard it.'

The blond sighed deeply. 'I don't have the tape. Not the final one.'

'Well we can get it back from the court can't we?' Beth asked.

'Um… the court didn't have it either' Hutch replied softly.

'They didn't? I thought I read that they had all three tapes?'

'There were four.'

'What?' Beth asked. 'What happened to the fourth one? Where's that?'

'At the bottom of the ocean. Shit Beth, I had no idea. You're the only one that knows about it and I want it to stay that way. Promise me honey, its important.'

'Of course. My lips are sealed. But why do that? What was on the tape?' she asked.

The flaxen haired cop looked uncomfortable. 'It was…. um. I listened to all of the tapes and I got steadily more sick. He said he wanted to test how much Starsky would obey him. He said he needed to check.'

Beth put her hand on Hutch's knee. 'Tell me.'

'Starsky was obviously in a trance, his voice sounded spacey and kinda far away. Edgar told him that he was wrong to think of me as a friend and that he wanted him to follow his orders to the letter. He…. Shit Beth, it was inhuman' Hutch mind played back the scene in his head. Edgar's slimy cold voice echoed.

_'Are you excited David? Can you feel the tension building in your groin? You sound so husky. You're voice is so full of need. Not like the young boys. You've lasted much longer than they ever did. You're much more fun David – much more entertaining …… Not yet David. It's not allowed yet. I want you to hurt. I want this to go on so long that you feel like you're on fire. I want you to plead with me to let you release. Tell me how you feel David.' …….' _

'Hutch, I know it's tough, but it's also important. Tell me. I promise it won't go beyond this room.'

Hutch closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. 'He ordered Starsk to…. to jack off and then he talked him through it, the sick bastard.'

Beth nodded. 'I assumed it would be something like that. It would have to be something so abhorrent that it would be a test of his strength over Dave. Hutch, it's important. Did Edgar use some unusual word? Did he repeat a word at all? Something memorable.

The blond shook his head. 'I was so angry at what I heard, I didn't really listen past that. Damn. I should never have destroyed it, but I was so anxious Starsky would never hear it and that no-one else would either.' The blond paled. 'If this is successful – this treatment, he will remember, won't he?'

Beth nodded sadly. We can't have good memories without the bad. That's life, but it still doesn't get us any nearer the word.'

'What can I do?' Hutch asked.

'I could always try to regress you to the point where you were listening to the tape. Maybe….'

'Won't work. I think Fisher may have tried to hypnotise me to begin with and soon gave up. Apparently I'm not a good subject – we tried it at college.'

Beth sighed. 'In that case, it's gonna be down to Dave, and a lot of hard work.'


	38. Chapter 38

**Part 3 – Chapter 38**

For the best part of the first week at Pine View Clinic, Starsky spent part of every day in the hospital part of the building, in a small room with Beth. At first they talked, nothing more. Beth watched for the trigger points when suddenly an unbidden pain would lance through the curly haired man's head and he would grit his teeth, sweat his way through it and fight to try to remember his past. On occasions small snippets of information would come back to him. To Starsky, they were insignificant although painful, to Beth, they were proof that the conditioning and the hold Edgar Fisher still maintained over the cop could be broken.

Hutch liked yoga and meditating and power shakes.

Starsky preferred red wine to white.

Hutch enjoyed the great outdoors and camping.

Starsky's aunt had always lived in Bay City.

Hutch had once been sick with a plague – That memory was one Starsky didn't chalk up as insignificant. That was a memory that he relived in great detail - the blond's head on the white pillow, his skin the colour of the linen. '_This aint no f fun. The game is Hutch is dying….' _It wasn't just a fleeting memory, he could remember the words and Hutch's urging him to "Now get outa here" and he could feel the panic welling up inside him at the thought that he might loose his partner.

Starsky hated linguini with clams and veal piccada. Now that one, neither he nor Beth could explain.

Hutch had once dated a girl called Gillian.

The memories were for the most part blurry and indistinct and Starsky came away from most of the sessions feeling weak, weary and dispirited. Beth told him he was doing well and that he was beginning to fight back, but when he went back to the room and discussed his "progress" with his partner. Starsky seemed to have very little to show for his toil.

The days fell into a pattern. Therapies were in the morning. The afternoons were taken up with exercise, either in the clinic's well equipped gym and pool, or out on the hillside, walking with Hutch, or sitting quietly watching the blond as he expertly cast his fly over the water and reeled in his empty line time after time. As the week wore on, the rest, the good home cooked food and the company of his partner started to show on the brunet's body. He started to put on a little of the weight he'd lost and his skin regained the healthy olive brown tan he'd habitually carried.

Hutch too was beginning to look a little better. Although still worried about his partner's mind, the blond was happy to see that Starsky was once again beginning to look well. Over the first couple of days on the mountain, and despite the heat, the flaxen haired cop had kept his shirt on while he'd been fishing. Eventually Starsky asked him why and shyly Hutch said he didn't want his buddy to see is scars in case they brought back the wrong sorts of memories.

'Aww Hutch! You've seen my scars often enough. Take your shirt off and enjoy the sun.'

'Yeah, I've seen your scars and they don't bother me at all, but…'

'I know. You didn't shoot me. You didn't give me the scars. Hutch, don't ya think I feel bad enough about 'em as it is without you having to broil yourself alive to hide 'em from me? For God's sake, just strip off and enjoy yourself.'

And so the blond too was regaining his golden tan and the two men were as relaxed as they could be, but hanging over their heads in the background was the constant knowledge that Starsky had not yet rid himself of the spectre of Edgar Fisher. The more Starsky sweated and worked at remembering, the more Hutch felt bad for destroying the only tape that might have been able to help his partner.

As the first week rolled to a close and the second week began, however, there was a new urgency to Beth's treatment. Fisher's trial was only 7 days away and still Starsky was in no position to give evidence. Judge Webster had stipulated that Starsky submit himself for treatment, but it appeared the good Judge had no concept of how difficult the brunet's rehabilitation would be. After a particularly gruelling session, Starsky came back to the room under a cloud.

'How'd it go buddy?' Hutch asked, as he usually did after a session.

'More of the same. I'm getting' nowhere fast, an' I'm sick of remembering what my favourite colour used to be, or what you like to eat for breakfast. That's no use to me! What the fuck am I doin' here?'

'Getting better partner. You're doin' great!'

'Stop it. Just shudup will ya? I'm not doin' great and it don't help me when you tell me I am. I'm fucked. My head is fucked and I can't stand this place any longer' Starsky's voice rose in volume.

'Beth's doin' everything she can. You've just got to give it time. I'm here for ya.'

The brunet whirled, his temper finally at breaking point and he lashed out at the only person it was safe enough to lose it with. 'Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I just want to be ON MY OWN. You're meant to be my partner, not my Mom or my nanny. You tippy toe round me and try to make the right noises like I'm a kid you have to humour. Get outa my hair Hutch. Just gimme some space huh?'

Hutch tried to hide the hurt in his eyes, but the words stung despite the fact he knew how frustrated Starsky was and how much the brunet was hurting. 'Is that what you want?'

'Yeah. Fuck off and give me some space' Starsky yelled, his face now red with anger. He turned and bolted from the room, heading down to the gym, leaving Hutch white faced and shaking in the bedroom. Anger welled up in the blond too. It was unfair. Life was unfair. After all these weeks of worry and anguish, when he never gave up hope that he'd find his partner alive and then finding Starsky only to realise that he'd found a stranger. With a feeling of panic welling up inside him, Hutch grabbed for his car keys and he too ran from the room, down the stairs and out to his car. He got in, slammed the door and gunned the engine, setting off at such a speed that he left a trail of rubber on the driveway. Hutch drove like a demon down the drive, out of the clinic grounds and along the road back to Bay City. He needed normality if only for a few hours. He needed friends around him and he needed to relax and laugh and maybe get just a little bit drunk. So much in haste was he that he didn't see the sunlight sparkle off the lens of the binoculars hidden in the woods, or he may have stopped to investigate. As it was, the blond didn't stop until he was well on his way down the mountain, when he slowed the car, wound down the window and let the cool breeze cool his scalp.

Back inside the clinic, Starsky made it down to the gym, stripped off his sweater and got onto the treadmill. He set the settings to a medium paced run and inclined the tread until he was running uphill, and then he went for it, taking out every ounce of frustration and hurt on his body, pushing himself to the limits until he was forced to stop, his breath rattling in his throat and his head pounding. He hit the off button and jumped off the device, hanging over the handrails like a rag until his breath had calmed and his legs felt once again able to support him.

Damn. Why did he have to have such a temper? Why did he have to take it out on the only man who'd stayed with him through thick and thin. And then a terrifying thought struck. He'd shot Hutch once. Had he been angry enough back in his room to have done it again, if he'd had a weapon to hand?

Throwing a towel round his neck, and with his heart in his mouth, Starsky pushed his way out of the gym and found his way down to the hospital wing. There he looked in through some of the doors and finally found Beth as she was walking out into the corridor. She looked at her patient, taking in the sweat soaked tee shirt and the drops of moisture beading on the chocolate coloured curls.

'Dave? What is it?'

'Beth, please, you have to help me. Please just do something. Help me get this memory thing back. I can't live like this….I….its destroyin' me. Please? Do something.'

The woman ushered the brunet into a side room and gently pushed him down onto a chair. 'What's this all about? I only saw you an hour or so ago.'

Starsky put his head in his hands. 'I lost it with Hutch. I told him to go and that I needed space. I feel trapped. I'm not getting anywhere. I'm not…. It's not fast enough. I need to remember and I can't. Help me?'

Beth knelt in front of the brunet and put her hands on his shoulders. 'You're scared, and frustrated. Hutch will know that. Did he go?'

'Dunno, I didn't stay around long enough to find out. Hell, I've messed things up again. I…. Beth I need you to be straight with me. Am I dangerous still? I tried to kill him once. Would I do it again?'

'No honey, you wouldn't do it again. That was outside influences at work, nothing to do with your memory, and those influences aren't here any more. You're no more a danger to him than he is to himself. But we can step up the pace of your treatments if you like? We were having good results with sodium pentothal before, How would you like to try that again. Maybe that's a way forward?'

'Anythin'. You can stick a block of C4 in my head if it'll work. I just want things to be right again. But I have no idea if things'll ever be the same between us… I was a bastard with him.'

Beth smiled encouragingly. 'He'll understand. He's that type of guy. We'll start the new treatment tomorrow huh? Now go and get some rest. It looks like you could do with it.'

Starsky nodded and stood wearily. He made his way back up to his room and showered, feeling the strains of the past couple of hours flood away with the water down the drain. Washed, clean and a little more relaxed, he flung himself down on the bed, wishing that Hutch were in the next room instead of MIA and in minutes Starsky's eyes had closed and he was asleep.

'It was perhaps three hours later when the phone by the side of his bed rang and stirred him from his dreams. Instantly awake, Starsky reached for the receiver and jammed it to his ear. 'Hutch? Is that you buddy?' he said quickly.

The voice on the other end of the phone was familiar but in a sickening, slimy sort of way. 'No David, this is your other friend. Do you remember me?'

Starsky fought down the tide of nausea and closed his eyes. He wouldn't listen this time. He wouldn't. _Fight it Davey, fight it.' _

'I've missed you David. I've missed our little chats. Have you missed me?'

'No…I…..I….no' the brunet stammered.

'Aww, such a shame. And we were such good friends. You'd do anything for me before' Edgar's silky voice continued. 'but then things got in the way. You didn't follow my instructions did you David.'

The brunet could feel his free will slipping away like sand though his fingers. He rubbed his hand through his hair taking a hold f a bunch of curls and tugging painfully, desperately trying to put down the phone but it was as though his hand refused to obey him. 'I'm sorry' he heard himself say.

'And so you should be. I gave you specific instructions David. Can you remember what they were?'

'Swim…. Keep on swimming till I can't swim no more' Starsky's voice took on a zoned quality.

'And yet here you are, alive and well. What do you remember David. Has your memory returned?'

'No….don't remember nuthin.'

'Well that's good. At least you followed that part of my instructions. And now I need you to do something else for me. Will you do that?'

'Yeah.'

'Good. The police have my tapes David. They have the tapes I made of our conversations and I want them back. I want you to get them back for me and I don't want you to let anyone stop you David. Can you do that for me David?'

'Yeah. Get the tapes, don't let anyone stop me' Starsky muttered.

'And you won't mess up this time?'

'No.'

'You'll do exactly as I want, no matter what?'

'Uh huh?'

'Then go David. What are you waiting for? Go to the police station and get my tapes and bring them to me. Go now. Right now. Don't stop.'

In a daze, Starsky stood, laying the telephone down on the table rather than hanging up. He walked to the door and put his hand on the handle, Edgar's words ringing in his ears.

_Get the tapes. Don't let anyone stop you. Don't let me down again._

With those instructions engraved in his mind, the brunet walked out into the corridor, knocking over the orderly that was coming to serve him dinner.


	39. Chapter 39

**Part 3 – Chapter 39**

Hutch drove like the wind down the hill from the clinic, his mind in a whirl. Starsky was hurting he knew and to be honest with himself, Hutch had also expected progress on Starsky's memory to be quicker and he could understand why his partner was angry. But the words stung him nonetheless. Hutch had stayed by the brunet's side over all this time and he felt like he'd been slapped in the face when Starsky had told him to go.

As he progressed down the hill, however, Hutch's temper waned and by the time he'd reached the city limits he was upset, but no longer in danger of biting off the head of the first person he might meet. With Traff gone back to the Army base for a few days and Hutch needing company and someone to talk to, it was a natural progression that he should find himself driving automatically towards the Pits and Huggy Bear's friendship. It was growing dark when the blond drew his battered car up outside the back entrance to the bar and got out. Walking into the bar felt comforting. The smell of beer and tobacco and the music from the juke box welcomed him like long lost friends and the blond felt himself begin to relax as he headed for the bar and leaned on it casually. Huggy looked up from the beer he was pouring and his face cracked into a grin.

'Hey… Hutch my man. How's it hangin'? And how's the curly one doin'?'

'Not bad, but I needed a break' Hutch said without enthusiasm.

Huggy put a glass of cold beer down on the bar in front of his friend and leaned over, cupping his chin in his hand. 'That's not like you. What's gone wrong?'

'Wrong? Nothin', why should anythin' be wrong?'

'Hmm, let me see. Two reasons. One, you an' Starsky don't ever go nowhere without the other and second, you look like you lost a dollar and found a dime. C'mon, tell Uncle Huggy what's eatin' ya.'

Hutch looked up, took a deep chug of the beer and sighed. 'I'm so transparent am I?'

'Well it don't need a psychiatrist to see you're a troubled little Blondie.'

'No, guess not. I guess I was just expecting too much. Beth and Starsk have been at it a week now and he can remember bits of things, but nothing of any consequence. It's like he's there, but he isn't there. Does that make sense?'

'With what he's been through, you can't expect the guy to click his heels an' be in Kansas right away, can ya? I mean…. He stunned everyone when he recovered before, but that was his body. This is a whole different ball game. Minds are strange things' Huggy observed sagely.

'I know, but it's still tough an' I don't know if I'm doin' any good by bein' there.'

Huggy grunted. 'Now I know there's something wrong. C'mon spill it.'

The blond slammed his glass down on the bar top. 'Why the hell did he tell me to fuck off huh? He shot me didn't he? An' I never blamed him once. I never told him that it hurt like nothin' I've ever felt before. I tried to hide all that from him. I tried to act like a perfect buddy. I tried to shelter him from all that just coz I thought he'd be hurtin' enough anyhow. And then he goes an' blows up at me! He's the one who tells me to fuck off and that he needs some space when it's me that's been hurt all this time. He's never once thought of that, has he?' Hutch put his head in his hands and sighed.

'Maybe that's the problem Blondie' Huggy said quietly.

Hutch looked up, surprised. 'Huh?'

'Well maybe you should stop tryin' to be the perfect friend and just concentrate on bein' a normal average friend. You've put so much strain on yourself by keepin' this all bottled up and it's bound to show up the cracks eventually. Maybe what he needs is some tough love.'

'Say again?' Hutch asked.

'Well ya know I don't advocate yellin' at him every day, but maybe if you stopped treadin' on eggshells when he's around, he might begin to feel a bit more normal.'

The blond smiled sadly. 'That's what he said. He said I was walkin' on tippy toes around him an' he was sick of it.'

'Well there ya go! All you need to do is be human. He wants a friend by his side, not Saint Hutch the Perfect. Let him see that you hurt too sometimes. Tell him when he's getting' on your nerves, coz it seems to me like he's tellin' you when you're grindin' him down.'

'You know, you should go into the shrink business. You'd make a fortune' Hutch muttered although now that Huggy had said it, he could see the force of the argument.

'Want another beer?'

'Uh huh and keep 'em comin'. If Starsk wants some space, who am I to argue with him?'

Huggy turned to pour another glass just as Janice yelled over the noise of the music. 'Hug….call for ya' she wiggled the telephone at the lanky bar tender and he smiled apologetically at Hutch, put the glass down in front of him and took the call.

The blond swilled the beer round his glass and chuckled to himself. There was his partner, in an exclusive clinic that fortunately he didn't need to pay for, with the best psychiatrists money could buy on his case, when all he really needed was a night at the Pits, a few beers and Huggy's down home wisdom. He took another drink of beer, just as Huggy put the phone down. Now, however, his face did not register it's usual smile. He patted Hutch on the arm to get his attention and put his mouth close the blond's ear as an especially loud song started on the juke box.

'That was Dobey. He says he's had a call from Beth at the clinic. She wanted to know where you were. Something's wrong with Starsky. You need to get back up there Pal.'

'Did they say what was wrong?' Hutch asked, his heart beating a little faster.

'No, just that they were having difficulties and you should head on back up the hill.'

'Aww shit. I should never have left' Hutch said putting his glass back down on the bar.'

Huggy took it from his friend. 'Hey Hutch. Remember. You're not superman. You're not superhuman so don't try and act like it huh? And be careful driving back' the barman shouted to the blond's retreating back.

Hutch climbed back into the car and set off back up to the clinic. He didn't exactly rush, but he had his foot hard down on the gas as he swung onto the freeway out of the city and the road started to climb. What did that mean? They were having difficulties. That covered a multitude of sins. It could be that Starsky had refused to eat his supper or it could mean that he'd come to blows with one of the other residents. Hutch ran scenarios in his head as he drove, the darkened road flashing past him as he pushed his powerful car up through the hill road.

Eventually the white sign proclaiming Pine View Clinic came into view and the flaxen haired cop swung his car onto the drive and finally pulled up outside the large house. Getting out, he took the steps up to the front door two at a time and pushed open the big front door. inside the entrance hall was lit by warm amber coloured lamps and by the desk Beth waited, a worried look on her face.

'What's happened?' Hutch asked as he walked over to the reception desk.

'I don't know, but I think somehow Fisher has got to him again.'

'Fisher? How? What's he done?'

'I think you need to come with me' Beth said fairly calmly. She led the way to the hospital part of the building and down a corridor that Hutch had never used before. He looked questioningly at the woman and she smiled apologetically.

'I'm sorry. He was so agitated that we had to put him in a padded cell for his own good. There's a CCTV camera in there. We can watch from the observation room.' She indicated a small darkened room to the left and as Hutch walked in he saw a bank of television screens lining one wall. Most showed darkened rooms that were empty. One showed a man curled up and asleep in a padded room, and one showed Starsky.

The brunet was walking around the perimeter of the room like a caged panther. His hands ran along the padded wall of the room and occasionally he would stop, better at the doorway and yell before reversing his pattern and walking in the opposite direction. Several time he looked directly at the camera and when Beth turned up the sound, he was yelling at them to let him out and that he had somewhere he had to go. Hutch swallowed down the bile in his throat.

'How long's he been like that?'

'I'm not really sure when you left, but at dinner time, the orderly went into his room with his tray and he pushed past and ran down the corridor. When I got there, I saw the phone was off the hook as though he'd taken a phone call. He um…. he hit two of the nurses on his way out and he was running up the drive when we caught up with him. He put up quite a fight.'

'I don't understand' Hutch said, unable to take his eyes off the sight of his partner caged and prowling.

'He kept telling us that he had to go to town and do something, but when we asked what, he couldn't tell us. At one point he was in so much pain that he passed out. That's when we managed to get him into the padded cell. I'm sorry Hutch, it's for his own safety.'

'What? Oh…yeah, yeah. You did what you had to, but what do we do now? I mean, it's like we've taken three steps forward and five steps back.'

'I was hoping he might quieten down if you go and try to talk to him. I mean we'll be right outside and we wouldn't want to put you in any danger…'

'Course I'll go in, but we had an argument before I left. That's why I went down to the city. I just needed a break.'

'Well of course. You're not superman you know' Beth said.

Hutch snickered. 'You're the second person to tell me that tonight. Ok, well. Now's as good a time as ever. Lead the way and lets see what I can do huh?'

Beth took them back out of the observation room and down to the cells area and nodded at the orderly on duty. He took a key and unlocked the door.

'Any last minute instructions?' Hutch asked.

'Keep calm, keep your voice low and if it looks like he's gonna hurt you, we'll get you out. Good luck' Beth advised as she kissed the blond on his cheek.

The orderly opened the door and Hutch walked in to the brightly lit room. As the door closed again, Starsky turned and made a lunge for the door. Hutch caught him by the shoulders and pushed him back and for a moment, the two men struggled with each other.

'Starsk, what're ya doin; buddy? Just calm down huh? Starsky! Stop this. Just stop and listen to me.'

The brunet stopped his fighting and instead clung to his partner as though he'd not seen him for years. 'Hutch…gotta get outa here. Let me out buddy. Just let me out an' everythin' will be fine.'

'And where are ya gonna go?'

Indigo blue eyes focused on Hutch and Starsky's forehead creased in concentration. 'Go? I um.. I have to go to….to… I have to get outa here.'

'So what's the rush? Let's just sit down and talk about this huh? Lets just take a minute to look at this.'

'No! No, you don't understand. I have to get out. I have to GET OUT' Starsky yelled, pushed himself away from Hutch and started to batter at the wall again with his fists.

Hutch made a grab for Starsky and held him close in a bear hug, keeping away from the flailing arms. 'Starsky stop, Don't do this buddy, please. Stop. Just stop.'

'NOOO, you don't understand!' Starsky whipped around in Hutch's arms and got one hand free. He drew back his fist just as Beth and two large orderlies broke into the room. As the two big men grabbed Starsky and bore him, shouting, to the ground, Beth shouldered Hutch out of the way and knelt by the brunet's side, Deftly she rolled up the brunet's sleeve. Hutch winced as she took a loaded syringe from her pocket and drove the needle into the curly haired man's biceps.

Within minutes, Starsky's struggles slowed and then ceased as his head lolled back. Beth nodded to the two men and they left and immediately, Hutch fell to his knees by his partner and gathered the smaller man up, cradling Starsky's head in his lap.

'Starsk, easy there buddy' he murmured, stroking the sweating ebony bangs from the cops forehead.

Wearily Starsky opened one eye. Hut….sh? What're ya doin' 'ere?'

'Looking after you ya big lug. What did you have to do that for?'

'Where's Ffffisher?' Starsky slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open against the power of the strong sedative. Hutch looked at Beth, amazed.

She knelt by the brunet's side. 'Dave, what did you just say?'

'Ffffisher…..s'posed to get tapes fffffor Edgar……told me he was my fffffffriend.' The indigo eyes closed and gently Beth shook him.

'Dave don't go to sleep yet. Fight this just a while longer. Do you remember Edgar Fisher?'

Sleepily the brunet cracked open one eye and regarded her blearily. 'R'member? Yeah….. keeps phonin'. Tells me to……have to get tapesssss.' The curly head relaxed completely onto Hutch's lap and the blond looked up in amazement.

'How come he can remember suddenly?'

Beth shook her head. 'I can only think that the powerful sedative cancels out the conditioning. His mind can't fight both at the same time.'

'Well that's great, but we can't keep him drugged forever' Hutch said bitterly.

'I know. But it does give me an idea' Beth said cryptically.


	40. Chapter 40

**Part 3 – Chapter 40**

Hutch and Beth waited for a while with Starsky, ensuring that he was calm and asleep. The brunet twitched and sighed, his body obviously still trying to carry out Edgar Fisher's commands even while his mind shut down completely, but the curly haired man remained asleep, drugged to the hilt and probably incapable of walking even if he'd been conscious. Hutch still had the curly head cradled on his lap and absently, he carded his fingers through the springy hair, allowing each curl to embrace his finger in turn, Beth watched him for a while admiring the love and trust both men shared, but finally she patted Hutch gently on the arm.

'We need to talk' she whispered.

The blond nodded and with great care, he shuffled out from beneath his partner and laid Starsky's head down on the soft padded floor of the cell. He stood stiffly and regarded the brunet sadly. Starsky looked small and forlorn curled up on the floor, but the room was warm and he was safe and with a sigh, Hutch followed Beth outside. They clicked the door shit and Beth apologetically locked it behind her. They went into her small office and she poured two cups of coffee from the percolator on the sideboard. They sat down wearily.

'What was that all about?' Hutch asked. 'He seemed almost normal. How come?'

'I can only assume that the drugs were too powerful. They overwrote the conditioning Edgar imposed on him and allowed Starsky's mind to come through. At least you have your answers, and the truth.'

'Uh huh, but we can't exactly whack Starsk up like that to put him on the witness stand can we? I mean he can't live his life drugged to the eyeballs' Hutch said bitterly.

'No, but it has given me an idea. It's radical and I don't think you're going to like it, but I'm fairly certain it would work. We'd need Dave's consent though.'

'And that idea would be….?'

'We shock him. Electro shock therapy. Now I've seen what the drugs can do, in sufficient quantity, I'm pretty sure that E.S.T. would work' Beth said slowly, knowing the reaction she'd get from the blond. She wasn't mistaken,

'You mean electrocute him? No way. There's got to be another solution. E.S.T. is barbaric!'

'Not now it isn't. He'd be unconscious and he wouldn't even be aware of what was going on. More to the point, I'm pretty sure it would be a one hit wonder – a bit like shocking a heart to get it beating normally again' Beth said gently.

'You're sure it'd work?' Hutch asked sceptically.

'As sure as I can be with anything to do with the mind. Psychiatry isn't a precise science, but in my opinion I'd say we'd have a 90 percent chance of it working.'

The blond pursed his lips. 'Then I guess that's the way to go.'

'Well I can schedule him for the treatment in a couple of hours' Beth said, getting up to go to the phone. Hutch stopped her, his face thoughtful.

'Hold one a minute. There's a couple of things I'm thinking here.'

'Like?'

'Well first off, if it doesn't work, we only have the drugs to fall back on, and we need as much information as possible before the trial. I'd like it better if I could try to talk to Starsk at least once before the treatment. Is that possible?'

The woman nodded. 'I guess so. I could give him a large dose of the Thorazine as he's waking up. That'd put him out again, but you'd probably get five minutes of sense but of him before he wouldn't be able to fight it any longer.'

'Five minutes? Not a lot of time, but it should be enough. The other thing on my mind is this. We know we have the possibility of a cure and we know we can get some sense out of Starsk when he's out of his head on the Thorazine. But Edgar Fisher doesn't know that.'

Beth raised her eyebrows. 'No. Where are you going with this?'

'Well if we delay Starsky's treatment, put him back in his room and wait, Edgar is going to want to know why Starsk hasn't got the tapes for him. He's gonna want to make contact again, and I have the feeling Fisher aint a patient man. If we can get that contact on video tape, we've got the case sewn up.'

The woman looked thoughtful. 'Well we have CCTV installed in all the rooms, but the cameras aren't turned on as a matter of course. We use them more for patients with sleep disorders so that we can monitor them, and always with their permission. I guess we could use that.'

'Fine. We take Starsky back to his room and wait. With any luck, and if my hunch is right, we won't have to wait long before Fisher is ringing again to find out what went wrong.'

Beth put her hand on Hutch's arm. 'You know what you're asking, don't you. You told me about the fourth audio tape and the test Edgar used to see if Dave was completely under? Are you sure you want to put him through that again – and on video rather than audio?'

Hutch paled and his voice softened. 'If I could think of any other way, I'd take it, but what do you think? Can you come up with a better solution?'

Beth shook her head. 'No, not really. Let me get the CCTV switched on and I'll ask Gus and Derek to move Dave back to his room. After that, we wait huh?'

The blond nodded. 'Yeah, after that, we wait.'

True to her word, Beth set everything in place and the two of them moved across the hallway back to the dark, quiet room with the bank of televisions across one wall. Most were switched off, their screens showing blank grey, but one flared to life as the door to Starsky's room opened and a gurney was pushed through bearing the chocolate curled cop. Hutch watched as the two orderlies put the brunet carefully onto the bed, still fully clothed. They pulled a single throw over him, checked he was ok and then left, locking the door behind them. Starsky lay still where they'd placed him, the strong sedative still in his bloodstream allowing him at least a small time of rest and relaxation.

In the observation room, Hutch too dozed, his body and mind exhausted from the chasing down and back up the mountain and the emotion of seeing his partner once more under Fisher's spell. Beside the flaxen haired cop, Beth sat and watched and sipped at large amounts of coffee. Long hours in internship and in other hospitals had moulded her body and mind so that she could remain alert for 36 hours at a stretch if needs be, although fortunately she didn't have to do that bone crushing schedule too much any more.

She checked constantly on the monitor, watching the brunet, who turned several times during the night, but otherwise remained asleep, and it wasn't until the monitor showed that sunlight was streaming through his window that things started to happen.

Beth nudged Hutch awake and switched on the audio and the video buttons at the same time, starting the recording as the telephone rang on the nightstand next to Starsky's bed. Groggily, the brunet came awake and paused a minute, obviously wondering how he'd got back into his bedroom before his hand reached out and he took the phone.

From their watch room on the next floor, Hutch and Beth could hear and see clearly what was going on and Hutch stiffened as he heard the conversation.

'H'llo?' Starsky's voice was thick with sleep and as he spoke, he sat up on the edge of the bed, side on to the camera and ran his fingers through his hair.

Beth had also had a small microphone placed into the receiver of the phone and now she turned up the volume, Edgar Fisher's vice sounding tinny down the line.

'Where were you David? I missed you last night. Where are my tapes?'

'I um….I… I couldn't get out' Starsky said defensively.

'Couldn't? Or wouldn't? Aren't you my friend any more David? Don't you want to play our games?'

'No…. couldn't get away. They stopped me' the brunet's voice seemed lost and zoned and his profile on the camera showed him to be staring into space, no discernable animation in his features.

'David, I think you've forgotten your promise to me. You know I need to know you'll obey me, don't you?'

'Yeah…'

'Do you want me to test you again, David? I think I should, just to be sure.'

'No….'m sorry. I will get 'em. I just…'

'David listen to my voice. Listen only to my voice and I want you to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?'

Starsky's voice faded until he was merely parroting what he'd been told. 'Yeah….only what you say….'

In the small observation room, Hutch sat forward on his chair, his face close to the glass and his body so stiff it hurt. This was it. This was the crucial test and the one that would put Fisher away for the rest of his natural life. Fisher's voice was continuing.

'I've missed this David. And I've missed my tapes. I used to listen to you on the tape, at night when I was in my bed. Do you know your voice becomes so husky when you need release? It's so damned attractive David. I missed that. The younger boys weren't like that. They never lasted as long as you. I want to hear you do it again David. I want you to make love to yourself for me. Will you do that?'

'No, I… I don't…'

'David, listen to me. Only to my voice. I'm impressed that even now you can question me, but remember the pain David. Remember how it hurts when you remember, or when you disobey. Do you like the pain?'

'No….hurts….. don't wanna disobey' Starsky's voice said thickly.

'Good, so now you're going to unzip your pants David and you're going to stroke yourself. You're going to make love to yourself just for me, and you're going to plead with me to let yourhave release.'

The picture on the screen showed the brunet's left hand working at his zip and Hutch lurched to his feet. Beth held him back.

Ken, I know this is tough for you, but this is the evidence you want. With this you can put Fisher away for life. You have to let this conclude. This will be the last time ever Fisher will be able to get t Dave, I promise.'

I can't watch this. It's like he's rapin' him right in front of my eyes. I've gotta do somethin'.'

'And if you storm in there now. Fisher is going to know that you're on to him, isn't he?' Beth said reasonably.

The blond sat back down, his eyes drawn to the television screen despite himself. It was like watching some sickening porn movie except the star was his partner and best friend and as he watched, Hutch too felt as if he was violating Starsky in some way.

Fisher's voice was still sounding down the phone.

'That's so good David. I can hear your pain. I can hear you're so close. Tell me David. Tell me how you feel.'

'I need to cum. I need to….God, hurts…. I need….'

'Soon David, soon I'll let you release, but consider this a punishment for not following my orders. You won't disobey me again will you David?'

'No. Please lemme… I need to….'

On the screen, it was obvious what Starsky was doing, although thankfully the camera wasn't placed in front of him, giving him a small measure of decency.

'Ok David. You can come for me now. You've done well' Fisher said, as Starsky threw his head back and moaned, his body shuddering. Hutch swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and would have run from the room had it not been so urgent to get the full episode down on tape.

Both Beth and Hutch could hear Starsky's ragged breaths, but now Fisher was continuing and Beth turned the volume up more to catch every word.

'That was so good David. Thank you. And now your final instructions. I still want my tapes and I still need you to get them. Today, you will find some way to go back down into the city. You'll go to the metro and you'll get the tapes for me and return to the clinic. Tonight at 10:00 o'clock I will meet you in the pool house in the grounds and you'll hand them over. Is that clear?'

Starsky was still panting from his exertions but they could see him nodding. 'Tapes….10:00 in the pool house. Bring tapes…..yeah.'

'And David, this time you won't fail me huh? This time, if you fail me, it'll be the last time. Is that clear?'

'Yeah….last time…..won't fail.'

'Good. Now David, sleep and when you wake you'll feel rested but without any memory of this call. Three. Two, one and sleep.'

On the screen, Starsky barely had time to replace the receiver before he slumped back onto the bed, dead to the world.

In the small room, Beth and Hutch let out a collective sigh. 'We got it. Now we can treat Starsk and nail Fisher. We got a busy 24 hours!' Hutch said, pulling Beth to him and kissing her.


	41. Chapter 41

**Part 3 – Chapter 41**

Beth and Hutch made their way back down to Starsky's room and Gus, the orderly from the previous night unlocked the door and let them in. As they opened the door and closed it quietly behind them, Starsky stirred on the bed and opened his eyes sleepily, stretching his arms above his head so that his tee shirt rode up showing an expanse of tanned, toned midriff, For a moment he looked at the two friends as though seeing them for the first time and then he rolled onto his side and sat up on the bed.

'Hutch? How did I get back here?' the brunet asked softly.

'They brought you back here last night after I got back. Do you remember last night?' Hutch asked.

Starsky closed his eyes and hung his head. 'I remember sayin' some pretty poisonous things to you buddy. 'M sorry. I never meant 'em ya know. I was just so damned frustrated that things were going so slow.'

'Hey, you've had to put up with me bein' cranky before now. Forget it. Um… what else do you remember of last night?' Hutch pushed.

'Last night? I remember feelin' bad about you leavin' and then I um….. I went to the gym, came back upstairs and….I dunno. I had the craziest dream. I was in a padded cell and you an' Beth were there and….' Starsky's voice slowed and stopped as he looked curiously at the blond and Beth. 'That was no dream, was it?' he asked softly.

'No, it wasn't buddy. Fisher got to you again.' Hutch said without thinking.

'He did NOT. Why do ya keep bad mouthin' him he's just…..'

'Listen to yourself Starsk. Why are you defending him? We can help you. We know now how we can help you' the blond said gently, coming to sit next to Starsky. The curly haired cop pushed him away.

'Leave me alone. You don't understand. I'm fine. All I need is to get back to Bay City. I have sumthin to do there and then I'll be fine' Starsky said, starting to walk towards the door.

Hutch rose and followed him as Beth readied herself with her needle.

'Buddy, you're goin' nowhere. Fisher called you and told you to get the tapes for him, remember Starsk? Remember?'

'I remember you're always getting' in my face these days Hutchinson' Starsky yelled angrily. 'Just let me go huh? Gimme the keys to your car or I'll walk back down the mountain. You're supposed to be my buddy, well treat me like one.'

'I am Starsk, but you aren't listening. Edgar Fisher has got to you again.'

The brunet whirled and drew back his fist. He swung full force, but Hutch was ready for him and football tackled him into the corner. The blond's shoulder sunk into Starsky's stomach as he wrestled with his partner to stop him from getting away. Starsky's temper was once again lost and he was yelling incoherently and thrashing around with his arms. Hutch tried not to hurt him, but finally desperation won out and he cuffed the brunet on the jaw, snapping Starsky's head sideways. The surprise was the thing that shut Starsky up – the surprise more than the pain – and it gave Beth just enough time to dart in and inject the contents of her syringe into the brunet's upper arm.

Starsky yelled one more time, but within seconds, his struggles became weaker and he slid down the wall while Hutch held onto him securely.

'I'm sorry Starsk, I'm sorry' the blond muttered as he cradled Starsky's face in his hands. Struggling, he looked up and met Hutch's crystal blue eyes with his own.

'M sorry Ut…sh' the brunet slurred. 'Don't know what…..'m doin'. Help me?'

'We will help you buddy. Just stay awake long enough huh' Hutch shook Starsky shoulders gently. 'Starsk, stay with me. I need you to do that for me. Do you remember Fisher telephoning you again this morning?'

Starsky's head lolled down and with a sigh, he forced his heavy eyelids open. 'Fffffisher? Yeah…..phoned…..told me t'get tapes. Made me promise.'

'Ok, we know that Starsk…..hey buddy boy. Are ya listening to me?'

'Yeah…..shoutin'…..ssssound like Dobey.'

Hutch smiled. 'Sorry buddy. We've got a cure for ya. I won't pull punches it's a doozy, but we can bring this to an end here and now. Are you up for it?' Hutch asked urgently.

'Cure…..ssssure, go f'r it.' Starsky was finding it hard to stay awake, Hutch's voice seeming to be coming at him from a great distance.

'Starsk, Beth wants to give you E.S.T. She thinks that will reset your brain and Fisher won't be able to get to you again. Will you let her?'

'Mmmmm? Shock? Will it…..hurt?'

'No. No buddy, promise. You'll be asleep. You won't know a thing.'

'Wanna sssssleep now' Starsky slurred.

'I know, but you need to give your consent. Will you let her do this buddy? Will ya?'

The brunet's head was now resting on Hutch's shoulder and Starsky had almost lost his fight against the drug. 'Ssssure……ffffffine' he breathed before his body sagged limply against his friends, and sleep claimed him again. Hutch looked up at Beth.

'He said yes. How long will it take to set up?'

'An hour, no more. Let me go and organise it and we should be able to do it while he's still under the influence of the Thorazine

Beth rushed from the room as Hutch continued to hold onto his partner, cradling the sleeping man in his arms and the curly head rested on his shoulder.

'God Starsk, I'm glad this is coming to an end. It's been a ride partner hasn't it? I've never known anything we've been through last so long. Even when you were shot we could see a way forward, but this? This has just been bloody. I've missed you Starsk, an' I can tell you now you're asleep coz I know you hate soapy scenes, but I've missed you more'n I can possibly say. It's been like a little part of me is missin', but I have to tell you Pal, this EST is no walk in the park. You might not feel anythin' while it's happenin', but believe me, you'll feel like you've done ten rounds with a gorilla tomorrow. Remember when I was in Cabrillo and they tried it on me. I know – it hurts. But at least you should be you again, and that I can deal with.'

Starsky said nothing, but slumbered on and together the two men sat and waited for Beth to come back for Starsky to take him for his treatment. Eventually, two orderlies came pushing through the door with a gurney and Hutch helped them to lift his partner up and onto the trolley. He walked at the side of the gurney as they wheeled Starsky from his room and down to the hospital part of the clinic and stopped at a small, white clinical room that looked unnervingly like an operating room.

Beth had changed into operating greens and was waiting with a couple of nurses as the entourage appeared.

'We need to make some preparations first' she explained to Hutch who was becoming more worried by the moment. While the prospect of having his partner back and whole, the treatment itself left him feeling sick to his stomach.

'Um, anything I can do?' he asked, hoping for something to take his mind off things.

'You can help us get him undressed and into this' the woman said, holding up one of the infernal short sleeved hospital gowns.

'Oh he's gonna love me when he wakes up in this' the blond muttered as he started to unbuckle the brunet's jeans belt.

Sleepily one indigo eye opened and Starsky feebly batted at Hutch's hand. 'Not tonight Molly…..m'not in the mood' he mumbled.

'An' you're so not my type Gordo. Just work with me huh?'

The brunet's eyebrows knitted together in concentration. 'Ut….ch?'

'Yeah, sorry to spoil your dreams buddy. Only me. Can you gimme a hand here?'

'Hand, dick….they're all yours Moll' Starsky said blearily as he smiled beatifically up at Hutch.

Finally, with some help from one of the nurses, Hutch managed to get Starsky stripped off and into the gown and led on his back on the gurney. Beth chuckled as she watched how the blond deftly dealt with his partner and Hutch glanced over at her.

'Don't get the wrong idea' he growled. 'This is years of getting him into bed after too many tequilas.'

'Whatever you say! I'll believe you! We can take over from here' Beth said. 'There's things we need to deal with before he has the treatment. If you like you can watch from the observation room.'

Hutch bent over the still sleeping brunet. 'See you later buddy. Beth's gonna look after you from now on, but I'll be right outside. See ya in a little while.'

'Don't go Hutch' Starsky said, his eyes searching out his partner's. There was a hint of urgency in the voice and he seemed just a little bit more aware.

'I have to, but Beth is right here. She's gonna look after ya. Be good and don't go away huh? See ya later.' He patted the warm shoulder and walked from the room, unable to look back.

Beth took over and smiled down at the brunet. 'Dave, I have to put a tube into your bladder. Don't worry, It won't be there when you wake up, it's just temporary, but they aren't the most comfortable.'

Starsky's eyes focused on the woman and he tried to smile, although he felt sick and disorientated and slightly scared. 'Fine. Do your worst' he mumbled and closed his eyes. He flinched as he felt hands on the centre of his body and suddenly he was back in the jail, Rafferty looming above him and the other guards around him. Starsky squeezed his eyes closed as he felt the tube push against his opening. He'd had too many catheters in his life to know they weren't agonising, but the feeling was distinctly uncomfortable and he hissed as Beth pushed it gently home and inflated the balloon with distilled water to keep it in place.

'That wasn't so bad, was it?' she asked, wiping the brunet's forehead with a cool cloth. As she put it down, one of the nurses stuck the electrodes on his temples and taped them down. Starsky's stomach flipped over and he swallowed hard.

'Easy for you t'say' Starsky grunted and closed his eyes again as he saw the woman take up a needle and syringe.

'Dave, I'm going to put you to sleep now. You'll wake up in bed and it will all be over and you should have your memory back. I'm giving you the injection now. Hutch is right outside. I need you to count backwards for me from ten. Can you do that?'

'Sure' Starsky said softly. 'Ten….nine……eight…..sev….' He never got any further as his eyes slid closed and the nurse put the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Beth looked up at the watching blond and smiled encouragingly. 'We're ready' she said over the intercom. 'If you don't want to watch, it's fine. He's fast asleep.'

Hutch pressed the button on his side of the window. 'Just do it Doc. If he has to go through it, then I'm not gonna walk out on him.'

The woman nodded. She repositioned Starsky's head gently on the pillow, opened his mouth and inserted a leather strap between his teeth. Taking the electrodes, she turned the dial on the generator and paused, checking everything was ok before she turned and touched the electrodes to those taped to the brunet's temples. The effect was dramatic and Starsky's body arched off the gurney, his muscles cording on his arms. legs and neck. The charge lasted only seconds but to Hutch it seemed hours before finally Beth turned off the current and the brunet's body relaxed back onto the gurney. Immediately, Beth checked Starsky's heart with her stethoscope and the nurses recorded pulse rate and respirations. They conversed for a moment and then Beth looked up and put her thumb up. The treatment was over and now all they could do was wait


	42. Chapter 42

**Part 3 – Chapter 42**

The leather strap slipped from between Starsky's teeth and he lay back limp and pale on the gurney. As Beth checked his vitals again, a nurse gently removed the electrodes from each side of the relaxed face. Hutch could just make out the small burns before the woman dressed them with a little ointment and covered them with identical white bandages. In less than five minutes, the brunet was being wheeled back out of the clinical room and up to his own more comfortable bedroom. The orderlies laid him back on his own bed and Hutch pulled the covers over him and sat down wearily by the side of the bed.

A moment later Beth came into the room, dressed in her normal street clothes again.

'How's he doing?' she asked.

'Dunno. You're the doctor. You tell me' Hutch said. 'He seems quiet enough.'

'He tolerated the treatment well, now we just have to wait to see how he is when he wakes up. His first few minutes are going to be very fuzzy for him, and after that he'll have a…'

'Huge headache, I know' the blond finished.

'You know? How?'

Hutch smiled shyly. 'He isn't the only one who's been through the mill' he said cryptically. How long is he going to be out?'

Beth pursed her lips. 'Difficult to say, but I'd hazard a guess that he'll start waking up in about an hour.'

'Gives me just enough time to phone Dobey and let him know about what's going down tonight.'

'But Dave won't be fit enough to do anything tonight' Beth argued. 'Are you going to ambush Fisher?'

'If we have to, but if I know my partner, and if this treatment works, you can bet your bottom dollar he'll want to be in on the action somewhere.'

The woman smiled. 'I guessed as much, but he isn't superman. He's gonna need some time to adjust. All his memories flooding back – it can be a painful process, not just physically, but mentally too. And as for going near Fisher….'

Hutch's head snapped up. 'Could Fisher put him under again?'

Beth paused, considering. 'No, I don't think so. Or at least he could re-hypnotise him, but the initial trigger word has gone. If this has worked, then his mind will be reset to its normal state and Edgar won't have that pull on him. He'd just need to be careful.'

The blond snickered. 'To Starsky's usual state huh? Tell me Doc. Is there anything I can do to…. Nah, forget it. I like him just as he used to be. I've missed him.'

Beth rose and kissed Hutch on the top of his head. 'You're a good man Ken Hutchinson. Dave is lucky to have you, and Traff as his friends.'

Hutch smiled up at her 'The honour is all ours, but don't tell him I told you that. He's insufferable when he's swell headed.'

After Beth had gone, Hutch stayed for a few minutes, just watching his friend breathe deeply and regularly. He had a good feeling about the treatment, although watching the high voltage being shot through Starsky's head had been like a torture of the worst kind. Hutch had been angry at himself because at the point where Beth threw the switch, he'd looked away, unable to witness the shock treatment himself. Now, he straightened a minute crease on the bedclothes and got up.

'Be right back, buddy. don't go anywhere huh?' he said softly as he padded out of the room.

Hutch headed down the hallway back to the reception desk and asked to use the telephone. He dialled the number for the Metro and waited for the patch through to Dobey. It was ten in the morning and he knew the big black man would be by his desk as that was the time that Ida the catering lady brought him his toast and jelly. The phone picked up on the second ring.

'Dobey.'

'Cap'n it's Hutch. I think we've made some progress.' For the next ten minutes the blond brought Dobey up to speed on what had been happening and the fact that Fisher had once again had his claws into Starsky. He finished by telling the Captain about the final CCTV tape that he and Beth made of Fisher's call, leaving out all but the essential information that Fisher would meet tonight at 10:00pm with Starsky by the pool house so that the evil hypnotists could retrieve his tapes.

'And you think this treatment has worked?' Dobey asked

Hutch shook his head. 'I have no idea Cap'n. Beth seemed to think it was the best option and I have a good feeling about it, but only time will tell.'

'Well, keep me informed. In the meantime, I can have a team up to the clinic by nine tonight. That'll give 'em chance to get into position. Maybe we can even grab Fisher before he meets with you.'

'No, don't let 'em do that. I want to catch this slimy bastard in the act, that way he has no way of slipping out of it with some fancy assed excuse. This time, Fisher is all mine, got it?'

Dobey sighed down the line. 'Fine, we'll play it your way. See you tonight then. And Hutchinson? Tell Starsky um…. hi from me.'

Hutch put the phone down with a grin. A "hi" from the Captain was tantamount to a hug from anyone else. The black man was never given to shows of emotion, but all his men knew that Dobey regarded them more as sons than as employees. The blond walked thoughtfully back up to his partner's room and closed the door softly behind him. Walking over to the bay window, he stood with his hands on his hips looking out over the beautifully manicured lawn to the high pine trees beyond and the distant glimmer of sparkling blue from the small trout lake. The place was idyllic and yet he couldn't relax and rest surrounded by its beauty. Maybe in other circumstances, he could appreciate the nature all around him, but with his partner's sanity hanging in the balance, the world seemed shrouded in a black veil. Only now, with this last brutal treatment did there seem to be a chink in that veil and shyly the first rays of sunshine were beginning to poke through.

Hutch must have stayed looking out of the window for some time because he was roused from his reverie by movements from the bed behind him. He turned and walked back to the bed just as one indigo eye fluttered open and peered blearily around. The blond waited, his heart in his mouth as Starsky's eyes opened, closed, opened again and began to focus on him. Unsure whether he should be the one to break the silence, Hutch was on tenterhooks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Slowly, Starsky pulled one hand from under the covers and laid it over Hutch's.

'Heyyy' he rasped.

'Hey yourself. How's it goin' there partner?'

The brunet closed his eyes. 'Feel like I've done the marathon tequila championships at Huggy's bar. Head's poundin'.'

But you remember Huggy's bar? What's the name of it? What's it called?'

Starsky regarded Hutch as though he'd just grown two heads. 'The Pits. You're Hutch, I'm Starsky.'

'You remember?' Hutch asked, almost afraid of the answer.

'Dunno, no….yeah….it's fuzzy, but I think I know I'm me an' I know you're you. What? What did I say? Are you mockin' the sick?'

Hutch's face cracked into a grin. 'Only you could make a simple sentence sound like you're drunk. I think it worked partner. I think I've got you back. Do you remember coming here?'

'Uh huh. you drove me up from the courthouse. We went to the courthouse and the Judge freed me because…..' Starsky's face fell and he remained silent.

'Because what?' Hutch pressed.

'Because I shot you' Starsky said quietly. 'Oh my God Hutch, I remember it. I remember the calls Fisher made to me an' I remember driving with you to the fairground and he was there. We walked into the fair and he came round the corner. You were a way ahead of me and then Fisher told me…. he made me….I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop it. I was….. it was like I raised my gun and loosed off the two shots but it wasn't me. I was there, I was doin' it and it wasn't me. I couldn't stop myself. Fuck. I don't want to remember that. I don't want to have to replay it over in my head all those times. Hutch, I tried to kill ya babe.'

Starsky closed his eyes and turned onto his side in the bed, facing away from Hutch. He curled himself into a ball and covered his eyes with his hands in an attempt to close out the world. Hutch rose and plodded around to the other side of the bed where he could see his partner's face. Gently he pried the strong fingers back and fixed Starsky's indigo eyes with his own crystal blue ones.

'I'm here. You didn't kill me an' I'm right here, not goin' anywhere.'

'But I remember what I did. I can't live with that memory.'

'Yes you can, coz it sits in there with all the good memories too. It's just part of life's pattern. Shit happens, we deal and we move on. Think of something happy and concentrate on that huh?

'Juanita' Starsky said softly.

'The girl in Mexico?'

'Uh huh' Starsky levered himself up in the bed and wedged a pillow against his back. 'We never really talked about her did we? She was sweet and intelligent and loving….'

'She sounds perfect' Hutch said softly.

'Maybe not perfect, but I think maybe if I hadn't have been brought back here, she and I could have had something sweet goin' the brunet said shyly.

'Would you have preferred to stay there?'

'No. My life is here, although I'm not too sure about the whole cop thing any more. But if I hadn't have come back, I'd never have remembered about you an' Traff' Starsky said thoughtfully. 'Speaking of which….'

'He had to go back to the base, but he has time off next weekend. He told me he'll be back. Is everything coming back now? Do you remember?'

The brunet closed his eyes and for a long time he lay with his head resting n the pillow. Sometimes his face would crease as if in pain and at other times a shy smiled would play across his handsome features. 'I remember a lot more'n I did. Some of it's still fuzzy, but I remember Fisher an' I remember what he did to me.'

'All of it?' Hutch asked.

A scowl of concentration rippled over Starsky's face. 'Yeah, all of it. But, how'd ya…?'

'I found the audio tapes buddy. He taped all your conversations. That's how we got onto him.'

'All of the conversations?' Starsky asked quietly.

'Hey, buddy, what he did to you was assault. Just because he didn't lay a finger on you don't mean he didn't violate you.'

Starsky's face creased in pain at the memory. 'How many others have heard 'em?' he asked.

'The three conversations to begin with have been used at the courthouse. They were the general ones.'

'But the fourth? The time he…..God Hutch, how could I have been so weak? How could I have just sat there listening to him and let him tell me to do that?'

'No one's heard that one but me buddy, I promise. After I heard it I…. well I threw it in the ocean. I was so damned sure no one else would get a hold of it.'

For a moment Starsky processed the information and then he chuckled grimly. 'Lets hope the fish don't have tape players huh? I'd hate to see a shark swimmin' round with a boner. But um….what about…. He telephoned me here didn't he? Twice.'

'Uh huh. Beth called me coz she was worried about you. They had to sedate you but after she'd dosed you up with the Thorazine you started to make sense. In a way, he did you a favour. If she hadn't have done that, she'd never have had the idea to use the EST.'

'But I remember him tellin' me to…..again. Fuck, he was still in my head!'

'We had to let him think he still owned you so that we could get him to tell you where he needed to meet ya. I'm sorry Buddy, we kinda used you, but we've got him now. he's gonna get what he wants alright, accompanied by and arrest warrant and life in Folsom.'

'Uh huh. An' I'm gonna be the one to put him there' Starsky said decisively.

'You? I don't think so Pal. you've only just had your treatment. From memory you'll be feelin' like you've been kicked in the head by a mule and then a herd of elephants have walked over your body' Hutch said wryly.

'Yup, and more. But don't stop me doin' this Hutch. After all he's done to me. After the hold Fisher has had on me all this time, an' after what he made me do to you, do ya think I'd really just let someone else have the pleasure of stickin' the cuffs on him?'

Hutch grinned. 'Somehow I thought that's what you'd say' the blond took his half hunter watch from his pocket and checked it. 'Ok well, it's 12:30 now. He wants to meet you at the pool house tonight at 10:00. At least sleep for a while huh? I'll let Beth know that the treatment worked and that you're you again. Be right back buddy.'

The brunet grabbed for Hutch's hand and held onto it. He looked up into his partner's golden face shyly. 'T'hell with soapy. I lost ya once before. I don't like the feelin'. Will ya…..um. Will ya stay with me 'till I go to sleep huh?'

The blond man smiled. 'Course I will ya dope! Here, shift over.' As the smaller man scooted over on the bed, Hutch lay down beside his partner, turned on his side so that he could see Starsky.

'Don't wanna make a habit of this Blondie' the sleepy voice said indistinctly.

Hutch snickered. 'Don't flatter yourself. I prefer blonds anyway.'


	43. Chapter 43

**Part 3 – Chapter 43**

Starsky awoke from his sleep four hours later and lay with his eyes closed listening to Hutch snoring softly in the chair by the bed. The brunet rolled his head on the pillow and looked at his partner as if seeing him for the first time. Hutch was semi lying on the chair, his head resting back against the chair back and his long blond neck stretched back. _Jeez Blondie! You're gonna suffer when you wake up._ But the blond looked so peaceful – almost angelic, back lit from the window with the late afternoon sun haloing his head that Starsky decided to let him slumber on for a while.

While things were quiet, the brunet allowed himself the luxury of thinking back. He braced himself for the skull crushing pains he'd experienced for weeks when he'd tried to remember his life, but none came and slowly he relaxed, allowing his memories to drift in and out of his consciousness without really concentrating on each one.

It felt so very comforting to have his life memories back with him. He'd never really appreciated them before, but with their absence had been pain and loneliness and, yes, he'd been scared. Scared of what he was, of what he may have missed, or indeed what he might have done. When the bounty hunter had come for him in Mexico and had told him that he'd skipped bail on an attempted murder wrap, his heart had plunged into his boots, the thoughts of being a criminal being so abhorrent to him that for a while he wondered whether it might not have been better for him to die right there and then.

Now he knew why he'd had those feelings. He was a cop, and, it appeared, a damned good one. So obviously the thought of being a criminal was going to have made him sick to his stomach.

There were other memories too, however, and those memories made him smile. For a while he thought of Juanita and the few days of love they'd shared. What they'd shared had been so tender and somehow fresh and unsullied that the feeling of her led in his arms was still with him. Starsky could feel the softness of her skin and could smell the perfume on her beautiful long, shiny black hair. But there were other women too he realised. The brunet's thoughts turned to those other women and he spent some time remembering the sheer joyousness that had been Terri, the fragile, confused woman that Emily had been and the way Rosie could make him feel when she became impassioned about the Huichol Indians or Mexican food. Each woman so different and yet they'd all meant so much to him in their own separate ways.

What of his men friends? Hutch, of course, was a constant in his life and even without his memories Starsky had known unshakably that there was a connection between the two of them. Traff too had been something special to him, although he'd never explored that with the soldier while he'd been at home. Now Starsky remembered the heat, the damp and the rain of Vietnam, the camaraderie of his platoon and the horrors of the POW camp. Traff had been with him through all of that and had rescued him from his own personal hell at the end of it. Friendship forged on the anvil of war would never fade he realised and Starsky thanked his lucky stars that he had Traff and Hutch around him. Dobey and Huggy also meant a lot to him and they too formed happier memories for him.

There were other men however, who had made his life less pleasant and the brunet shuddered at the thought. So many of his memories were of pain. Names like Ben Forrest, Vic Bellamy, Shane Lewis, Matwick and James Gunther floated into his mind, now to be accompanied by Edgar Fisher.

The bastard! There was no other way Starsky could think of the man and despite the fact that he felt like his body had been pushed under a pile driver, Starsky could hardly wait to get his hands on the evil man and put him away for ever. The thoughts of Fisher turned inevitably to the conversations they'd shared. Private conversations, whispered in the dead of night when Fisher had whispered that he was Starsky's friend and that he felt he should test that friendship. The brunet's stomach contracted at the thoughts of what Fisher had made him do and he screwed his eyes up tight, a low moan of shame escaping him.

As he shifted in his bed, Hutch heard the noises and woke, hissing at the stiffness in his back and neck. Slowly he levered himself into a sitting position and kneaded at his tired muscles.

'That'll teach ya to fall asleep in chairs Blintz. Your back always protests.'

'Hey, you remembered' Hutch said with a smile.

'Uh huh' Starsky said, easing himself out of the bed as much to rid himself of the thoughts of Edgar Fisher as anything. He stretched cautiously, not wanting Hutch to see just how much he was hurting. In truth, each and every muscle felt as though he'd given it its own personal 24 hour work out, and yet the return of his memory made up for the pains the EST had left him with. He walked round behind the blond and his strong capable fingers kneaded at the knots on Hutch's neck. The flaxen haired cop rotated his head and shoulders, prolonging the experience and accepting the touch from his friend.

'Hmmm, feels good Starsk. Almost as good as it feels having you back. But maybe you should get dressed huh?'

The brunet snickered as he looked down at the hospital standard issue gown, neatly tied at his neck, but leaving little to the imagination further down. 'I thought it was draughty! But I'm glad to be back. An' I'm even more glad that I'm gonna be able to get that flake behind bars where he belongs' Starsky said finishing the massage and giving a final pat of Hutch's shoulders. The blond looked dubious.

'I dunno Starsk. Are you sure you're up for this?' he asked, already knowing the answer.

'Wild horses wouldn't keep me away. After all he's put us through it's gonna give me so much pleasure.'

'But it's been less than 12 hours since you had your treatment buddy. You must feel like crap' Hutch continued.

'Well I'd be lying if I said I was A1 but I'm good. I can do this Hutch. I _need_ to do this. Call it retribution or whatever ya like, but I need to arrest him if only for my own piece of mind.'

Hutch shrugged his shoulders. 'I know I'm not gonna be able to change your mind. Get yourself ready coz we have a lot to talk about.'

Starsky headed into the small bathroom. Stripping off the dreaded gown he got under the shower and turned up the temperature as hot as he could stand, allowing the water to pummel his stiff and sore muscles into mobility again. Even his jaw ached and with a shiver the brunet remembered watching as Hutch had had the dreaded shock treatment once before. (see Echoes, by this author). Then he'd felt sickened as he'd watched the blond's body arch off the bed as the current flowed. Hutch knuckles had shown white, his neck stretched back and the muscles corded. No wonder Starsky now felt as though he'd been hit by a freight train.

Now, he gathered that pain around him. It felt good – like a security blanket. Pain was something he understood and it was an ally now, keeping him sharp and keeping his mind in focus. He could take this pain and use it against the man who had caused it in the first place. Neat!

The water continued to beat at the curly haired man's shoulders and he soaped himself carefully, washing the last bubbles from his curls before turning the temperature gauge to cold. The needles of water stung him and he stayed as long as he could tolerate it before turning off the shower and stepping out to towel dry. Within a quarter of an hour he was glowing, dried and dressed in clean jeans and a plain white button up shirt, the sleeves carefully turned up to just below his elbow and the buttons at the neck open just enough to reveal a tuft of dark, springy hair below his throat. Finger combing his curls into some semblance of order, he padded out into the bedroom.

Beth had joined Hutch and the two were deep in conversation as the brunet walked in. They looked up and the woman smiled.

'How do you feel?' she asked.

'Like Dave Starsky, thank God' he responded with his own smile.

'And the memory?'

'Some of it's still a little fuzzy, but I remember a lot more than I did. An' most important, I remember that flake Fisher.'

'That's great Dave, but Hutch tells me you want to be the one to go out there tonight' Beth said with a note of worry in her voice.

Starsky pulled up a chair and sat with his elbows on the small table. 'Look, Doc. Don't think I'm not grateful for everythin' you've done for me, now and back in jail, but this is sumthin I gotta do. Now I've got my marbles back, I remember everythin' that bastard did to me more or less. I'm a cop, but I was his victim too, an' I feel like I need to do this. Does that make sense?'

'It does, but I think it's too soon.'

Starsky smiled grimly. 'Well as Fisher set the timetable, we don't have a whole lot of choice in the matter do we? Don't worry. I'm sore for sure, an' I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I'm good to go.'

'Do you need any pain meds? I could give you something to take the edge of the worst of it.'

The curly headed man shook his head. 'No, I'm fine. I want a clear head when I face him. I'm good.'

Hutch and Beth glanced at each other and the blond sighed. 'OK well, if you're sure you're gonna do this, we need to make sure it goes down properly.'

'Uh huh' Starsky nodded. 'Which means?'

'Which means, Fisher mustn't suspect that you're free of his influence, and for that, you need to be able to behave just like you did when he had you hypnotised' Hutch explained.

'And that would be how?' Was I a zombie or sumthin? Did I grow two heads? Throw me a line here Blondie.'

The blond grinned. 'I can do better than that. Remember when he phoned you first thing this morning?'

Starsky's brows knitted together in concentration. 'I remember he phoned, but what he said was kinda fuzzy.'

Beth got up, placed a video on the table and smiled. 'I'll um… I'll leave you two gentlemen with that. Shout if you need me huh?' The psychiatrist paused at the door and smiled. 'See you later' she said as she closed the door behind her.

'What's this?' the smaller man asked, examining the tape.

'Buddy, I'm sorry, we had to get as much evidence together as possible just in case your treatment failed and we needed to lure Fisher here, so we could nail him in the act. We knew he'd be pissed when you didn't turn up with the tapes the first time, so we um…. we had the CCTV turned on in your room so that we could video the call. At least you can see how you acted when he called. Just try to copy the body language when you get out there and he shouldn't suspect a thing' Hutch explained.

Starsky shrugged his shoulders. 'Ok, but why all the cloak and dagger stuff?'

Hutch inserted the video into the player. 'Just watch huh? After that we'll talk.'

The images on the TV flickered into life and showed Starsky asleep on the bed and the phone ringing. As the scene played out, the brunet watched himself intently on the small screen, observing how he sat on the edge of the bed, completely relaxed. His face was impassive, his voice low and monotone. He shivered involuntarily as he heard Fisher's voice.

'_Where were you David? I missed you last night. Where are my tapes?'_

'_I um….I… I couldn't get out'._

'_Couldn't? Or wouldn't? Aren't you my friend any more David? Don't you want to play our games?'_

'_No…. couldn't get away. They stopped me' _

'_David, I think you've forgotten your promise to me. You know I need to know you'll obey me, don't you?'_

'_Yeah…'_

'_Do you want me to test you again, David? I think I should, just to be sure.'_

'_No….'m sorry. I will get 'em. I just…'_

'_David listen to my voice. Listen only to my voice and I want you to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?'_

'_Yeah….only what you say….'_

'_I've missed this David. And I've missed my tapes. I used to listen to you on the tape, at night when I was in my bed. Do you know your voice becomes so husky__……'_

Hutch got up swiftly and turned off the tape and the television. 'So, can you copy that?' he asked, his voice a little more shaky than it should have been.

'Why did ya switch of off?' Starsky asked carefully, watching Hutch's featured close down as they did when his partner had something to hide.

'Well haven't ya seen enough?'

'I dunno. Have I? What exactly did Fisher do buddy? What're ya hidin' from me?'

'Nothin'. It's nothin' Starsk' Hutch hedged. 'The rest of it doesn't add anythin'. You just need to….'

The brunet got up and tried to turn on the TV again as Hutch tried to block him. Starsky pushed him gently out of the way. 'Blondie, he did this to me. I have a right to see, don't I?'

Hutch winced. 'Please, Starsk, you don't need to do this. Don't torture yourself huh?'

The brunet flicked on the TV and Video recorder and sat back down. 'Work with me' he grunted. 'I wanna see it all.'

The tape continued to play as Starsky watched in sick fascination, his hands starting to ball into fists as the tape played on.

'……_.d__o you know your voice becomes so husky when you need release? It's so damned attractive David. I missed that. The younger boys weren't like that. They never lasted as long as you. I want to hear you do it again David. I want you to make love to yourself for me. Will you do that?'_

'_No, I… I don't…'_

'_David, listen to me. Only to my voice. I'm impressed that even now you can question me, but remember the pain David. Remember how it hurts when you remember, or when you disobey. Do you like the pain?'_

'_No….hurts….. don't wanna disobey.'_

'_Good, so now you're going to unzip your pants David and you're going to stroke yourself. You're going to make love to yourself just for me, and you're going to plead with me to let your have release.'_

'_That's so good David. I can hear your pain. I can hear you're so close. Tell me David. Tell me how you feel.'_

'_I need to cum. I need to….God, hurts…. I need….'_

'_Soon David, soon I'll let you release, but consider this a punishment for not following my orders. You won't disobey me again will you David?'_

'_No. Please lemme… I need to….'_

On the screen, it was obvious what Starsky was doing, and the brunet felt sick to his stomach as he witnessed himself jacking off for the pleasure of the slimeball Fisher.

'_Ok David. You can come for me now. You've done well' _

Starsky could hear his own ragged breaths and his moan at the point of release and he looked down at his hands both ashamed and embarrassed. The tape continued its incriminating evidence.

'_That was so good David. Thank you. And now your final instructions. I still want my tapes and I still need you to get them. Today, you will find some way to go back down into the city. You'll go to the metro and you'll get the tapes for me and return to the clinic. Tonight at 10:00 o'clock I will meet you in the pool house in the grounds and you'll hand them over. Is that clear?'_

'_Tapes….10:00 in the pool house. Bring tapes…..yeah.'_

'_And David, this time you won't fail me huh? This time, if you fail me, it'll be the last time. Is that clear?'_

'_Yeah….last time…..won't fail.'_

'_Good. Now David, sleep and when you wake you'll feel rested but without any memory of this call. Three. Two, one and sleep.'_

There was silence on the room as the screen went blank and the two men stared at the ground.

'Who's seen this?' the brunet asked softly.

'Only me….. and Beth.'

The brunet stood decisively. 'Fine, when we need to use it, we cut the last part out completely. In the meantime, I'm gonna nail that fuckin' bastard if it's the last thing I do.'


	44. Chapter 44

**Part 3 – Chapter 44**

Dobey, Rigger and a team of marksmen arrived shortly after 6:00pm. Before coming up to the bedroom, the Captain had the rifle toting cops position themselves in the tree line surrounding the lawn and the outdoor pool where they could clearly see the pool house, but weren't in Fisher's sight. The men, all selected for their skills with rifles dug in and prepared to wait. Fortunately, the night was clear and warm and pleasant enough that they could be relatively comfortable. They maintained radio silence.

Dobey and Rigger made their way into the clinic bearing a large bunch of flowers, just as if they were visiting the brunet cop as normal. Everything had to be done to keep up the appearance of normality, in case Fisher had gone up the mountain early and was keeping watch. The two men headed for the brunet's room where Starsky and Hutch were getting ready for the evening's performance. The captain hadn't seen his man for a few days and as he walked into the room, he had a pleasant surprise that Starsky was looking well, tanned and rested. The brunet turned as the door pushed open and smiled.

'Hey Cap'n… Rigger. Good to see ya.'

'Good to see you up an' about. How're ya doin'?' Dobey asked.

'I'm good. I'll be better after tonight' the brunet admitted.

Dobey sat down heavily in a chair while Rigger went to the window and parted the curtains slightly. He looked out, gauging distances and set up two pairs of binoculars on tripods, training them on the pool house. The Captain dabbed at his face with his large white hanky.

'Are you sure about this Starsky? I mean two days ago you were…'

'Mad as a hatter? Is that what you were gonna say? Not rowin' with both oars?' the brunet snorted. 'I'm fine. I've been over this with Blondie an' I know what I'm doin'. This is somethin' I have to do Cap'n. After everythin' that the bastard has done to me and to Hutch I just need to get it over with ok?'

'Well you're the only one who knows how ya feel. And as long as the Doc says it's ok. There's one thing I've been wantin' to ask though, and don't take this the wrong way, but knowin' how completely Fisher had you under his control, how do we know he won't just do it again? I mean, can you be sure you're fully recovered? Don't you think someone else should go down there?'

Starsky smiled grimly. 'The answer is I don't know. I know what to watch out for and I hope I can recognise the warnin' signs an' hopefully I won't have to be around him long enough for him to do anythin' else. I don't aim to be encouraging him to get into deep conversation.'

'And you're sure?' Dobey pressed.

'Wild horses wouldn't stop me doin' this. I just need to make sure he's behind bars.'

'Ok, well, so long as you're sure. I have marksmen in the woods round the pool house. Me an' Hutch'll be here watching through the binoculars and Rigger will be down at the opposite side of the pool, hidden and ready in case you get into trouble. The minute you feel things are out of control, shout an' Rigger can be there in seconds.'

The brunet nodded his understanding and for the next couple of hours, the four talked through the plans ensuring that everyone knew their roles and what to do if it looked like Fisher was once again asserting some sort of influence over Starsky. As the clock fingers worked their inevitable way up to 9:50pm the brunet got up, straightened his shirt and let out a deep, calming breath.

He smiled once. 'Ok this is it. See ya later' he said easily picking up four blank audio tapes from the table. Now the time was here and he was moving, he felt calmer and in control.

Knowing that now was not the time for a pep talk, the blond merely smiled encouragingly. 'See ya later partner' Hutch said and as the door to the bedroom closed. The blond flicked off the light and Dobey spoke into his walkie talkie. 'Superman's flyin', repeat, Superman is in the air.' There were some clicks on the line marking that each of the team members understood that Starsk was making his way down to the pool and Rigger's voice came on the line, soft and low. 'Lex Luther is waiting. I have him in my sights, over.'

From his viewpoint at the window, Hutch watched as Starsky walked down the sloping lawn and towards the pool. The brunet kept his pace slow and even and Hutch admired just how composed the brunet seemed to be. Starsky had always been excellent at undercover work, but this was in a class of its own and for a moment, the thought crossed Hutch's mind that maybe Starsky was still under Fisher's influence. He lost sight of his partner behind a stand of trees, and then he picked him up again as he walked onto the poolside and over to the large cabana. As he got to the doorway, the tall, lugubrious figure of Fisher appeared from the shadows.

Starsky hitched a breath to calm himself as he walked onto the brightly lit poolside. He tried to relax his body, matching his behaviour to that he'd seen in the video, but he couldn't help a small shiver as Fisher appeared in front of him, by the door to the pool house. The tall man looked around and then walked over to Starsky, a small smile on his face.

'David, I'm so happy that we get to meet again. I've missed you.'

The brunet's skin crawled but he kept his face a blank mask as he walked slowly and impassively over to meet his antagonist.

'Did you miss me too?' Fisher continued.

Playing his part to the hilt, Starsky kept his eyes lowered and his face blank. 'Yeah' he said softly.

'Have you spoken to anyone about me David? Have you shared our secret with anyone?'

'No. didn't speak to no one. You told me not to.'

'And you always obey me, don't you David?' Fisher looked carefully at the brunet and for a moment, Starsky raised his eyes, chancing a glance at the tall man.

'I try to' he deadpanned.

'Yes, you do, but you've let me down so many times before, haven't you. I need to be sure David. I need to make sure your friends don't know I'm here. You're not going to cheat on me now are you David? You're not wearing a wire are you?'

'No.'

'So you wouldn't mind proving that to me, would you?'

Starsky heart started to beat a little faster as Fisher came closer to him. The brunet fought to retain his façade. 'No…..don't mind' he mumbled.

'Take your shirt off for me. Let me see that you're not wearing a wire huh?'

With a dry mouth and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Starsky obediently pulled his shirt from his waistband and started to unbutton it. He pulled it open at the front to reveal a wire free chest and Fisher took a deep breath.

'Good boy David' he said softly and almost reverently. Fisher started to talk to Starsky as he walked around behind the brunet.

'Do you have my tapes?' he breathed into Starsky's ear.

'Tapes….yeah' the brunet tried to control the shake of anger and loathing in his voice. He took the four tapes from his pocket of his jeans and handed them over. Fisher pocketed them without checking and continued to circle his prey.

'Before you go David, there's something I've been longing to do. I want to touch you just once. I've heard you and I've fantasised about you and now I want to feel your warmth. I want to feel the heat radiating from that pretty body' Fisher continued. Gently and with great care, he pushed Starsky's shirt from his shoulders so that it fell into a puddle behind the brunet. Starsky fought to remain relaxed although every nerve in his body told him to rebel against the touch. Still, he remained quiet his eyes lidded and focused on the ground in front of him….waiting for the right time.

Fisher trailed his finger slowly down Starsky's chest toying with the wiry hairs. His finger circled the dark brown nipple and still Starsky remained quiet and impassive, employing every ounce of self control he had at his command. The fingers strayed further south, towards his belt.

Up in the bedroom in the clinic, Hutch and Dobey watched through the binoculars. When Fisher had pushed off his partner's shirt, the blond had stiffened and now, as he watched Edgar Fisher's fingers start on the buckle of Starsky's belt, he grabbed Dobey's walkie talkie.

'Move in, all units move in' he said into the device. Dobey grabbed it from the blond's hand and depressed the button. 'All units ignore that last. Stay put, I repeat, stay put.' Angrily he turned on the blond. 'You are not the officer in charge here. Rigger calls the shots. He knows his job and he has a better view down there. Cool it Hutchinson. Let this play out. If Starsky feels he's in trouble, he'll holler.'

But at that moment, Starsky took the law into his own hands. Up until then Starsky has been ok - in control. He felt as though he could deal with Fisher's closeness because this was a means to an end. As the tall man started to work at his belt, however, the visions of himself on the bed, his left hand working at the centre of his body overrode any remaining self control he'd had. As Fisher started to unzip his pants, Starsky's temper snapped and with a yell of rage, he grabbed a hold of Fishers hands, whipped the big man round and forced Edgar's hand up his back between his shoulder blades. Angrily, he slammed Fisher against the wall of the pool house and jerked his arm higher.

'Edgar Fisher, I'm arresting you for the…' Starsky got no further as with a titanic effort, Fisher pushed himself and his captor backwards. The move took the brunet completely by surprise and he cannoned back from the wall of the pool house, still holding on to Fisher's arm. Together both men teetered on the edge of the pool and inevitably, gravity took over and they fell backwards into the water.

Dobey grabbed his walkie talkie and was about to yell instructions into it, but was beaten to the post by Rigger, who's voice was quietly and authoritatively issuing instructions.

'Swat team move in, move in, Fisher's on the move. I'm goin' in.'

And when he said he was going in, Rigger meant it quite literally. He waited only long enough to hear the confirmations from the rest of his team before flinging his walkie talkie down onto the grass and running up to the pool to leap fully clothed into the water.

Up at the house, Hutch was already running from the room hotly pursued by Dobey, the blond having seen his partner plunge into the pool.

Starsky himself landed in the water underneath Fisher and for a split second both men were shocked and came up to the surface spluttering. Fisher was marginally quicker than Starsky, who was still recovering from the shock treatment that morning. Although not slow off the mark, the brunet's reactions were marginally slower than usual and Fisher was on him in an instant. Starsky felt hands round his throat and had only time for a swift breath of air before Fisher pushed his head under the water.

The sickening sound of bubbling water filled Starsky's ears as he clawed at the fingers round his throat. The pressure was incredible and he could hear also a buzzing in his ears. Eyes open, he could already see red speckles at the periphery of his vision marking that his body was low on oxygen. The brunet could feel his body weakening and although he fought on like a tiger, he felt his grip on life beginning to weaken.

Desperately and with a titanic effort, Starsky kicked his legs and brought both he and Fisher up to the surface where he managed to open his mouth a grab another mouthful of air. Fisher managed to pull himself up and put a hand on the cop's curly head, forcing the man below the surface again just as Rigger got his hands on Fisher's body. The thin man yelled in anger and frustration as Rigger pulled him away and cuffed him smartly on the jaw. The light went out behind the man's eyes and the cop pulled him away just as a blond whirlwind plunged into the pool and grabbed Starsky round the waist. With smooth easy strokes Hutch towed his partner to the side of the pool and smoothed the sodden curls back from the brunet's forehead.

Starsky gasped, trying hard to draw breath back into his body. Water streamed down his face and he tossed his head sending droplets left and right. Hutch kept a firm hold round his waist and grinned at him.

'You ok there partner, you look a little damp?'

Starsky snorted. 'What kept ya?' the brunet panted.

'You look like you had it covered. I was takin' an evening stroll. C'mon, let's get you back to the room and dried off.'

Starsky pushed himself away. 'Uh uh. I have one last thing to do' he grunted as he levered himself out of the water. He stood for a moment, shaking the water from his sneakers before padding wetly over to Rigger and the now handcuffed Fisher. The thin man looked up at him, his composure and calm smile finally gone, washed away with the chlorine from the pool. Starsky hunkered down in front of him and calmly started to recite the Miranda.

At the end of it, he stood and without a backwards look, he collected his partner and Starsky and Hutch made their weary way back to the clinic, a hot shower and a glass of brandy.


	45. Chapter 45

**Part 4 – Epilogue**

'I can't believe its over' Starsky said as he got up at the end of the hearing to sentence Fisher. In true brunet fashion, he'd paid his customary visit to the bathrooms before Judge Webster came into court.

At the end of the "night of the pool", as Hutch and his partner had started to call it, Rigger and Dobey had taken Fisher back down to the Metro and had worked on the man for almost 24 hours. At the end of that time, his lawyer had finally convinced the man that he had no defence and that his final shots at Starsky had blown any chance of a trial out of the water. A day later, Edgar Fisher stood up in the courtroom and pleaded guilty to the murder of 6 boys between the ages of 11 and 16 at the children's home, assault of one David Michael Starsky, kidnap of the same man and attempted murder. He was of course, remanded in custody pending social reports.

Starsky and Hutch attended the sentencing hearing expecting Fisher's lawyer to mitigate for a light sentence. They'd even suspected that Fisher might play the insanity card. They never expected the lawyer to say that he too had been under Fisher's influence and that he could no longer represent the tall thin defendant. As the hearing progressed, it became apparent that Fisher would represent himself to the bitter end.

The Judge's sentencing remarks were short and to the point. He pointed out that Fisher had set about to control he minds of just about everyone he came into contact with. That he was a danger to society and that although his lawyer had quit, he felt that it would not be right to sentence an unrepresented man to the death penalty. He would, however sentence him to life imprisonment, and that life meant just that – life. Fisher never so much as blinked as sentence was passed and as he was led from the courtroom he didn't even look back at the two detectives. In a way, Starsky almost wished that he had, just so that his last memory of the brunet would have been of Starsky smiling at him.

The two men got up from their seats at the back of the courtroom and walked out of the stuff building into the afternoon sun. Waiting for them outside were Traff and Beth, and a moment later Liz, who had prosecuted the case appeared and kissed Traff passionately on the lips. Hutch hugged Beth to him and smiled happily, his relationship with the young psychiatrist blooming by the day.

Hutch's battered car and Traff's T-Bird stood outside the courthouse, ready to go and the blond opened the door for Starsky to get into the back seat as Beth sat up front with him.

'What now?' the brunet asked, seeing three holdalls on the back seat next to him.

'Now we take a road trip' Hutch said as he started the engine. Ahead of his Traff pulled the T-Bird out into the traffic and Hutch fell in line behind.

'A road trip? Where to?' Starsky asked. 'I havent' packed anything.'

'I did that for ya buddy.'

Beth looked over her shoulder. 'We thought you needed a break. Captain Dobey has given you a weeks leave and Traff has got leave from the base. Liz and I are tagging along if that's ok.'

Starsky sat back, his face a picture of glumness. 'Yeah, sure. Whatever. A week of playin' gooseberry while you four act like sumthin outa the Karma Sutra. That'll be soooo relaxin.'

'Aww Starsk, you'll be fine. Beth thinks you need a complete rest, just to get over things' Hutch said gently. 'You'll enjoy it, I know you will.'

'Whatever' the brunet grumped, the elation at Fisher's sentence washing away as thoughts of long walks by himself while Hutch and Beth and Traff and Liz got it on flashing through his mind. 'So where are we goin'?'

'Does he always ask so many questions?' Beth asked.

'Uh huh. he was one of those kids who started huntin' for Christmas presents in June and hated surprise parties' Hutch advised.

Starsky leaned forward in the car. 'Hey, I'm right here ya know. I'm not crazy no more, ya don't need to talk about me like I'm some kind of village idiot.'

The blond snorted. 'Just sit back and relax Starsk. This is just what the Doctor ordered, and I should know' he put his arm round Beth's shoulders and Starsky groaned.

'See, that's just what I was afraid of. A whole week of you lot bein' lovey dovey an' me playin' solitaire in my room. Did ya pack ear plugs, or are ya gonna do it quietly?'

'Starsky! You're so gross! Just shudup, sit back an' enjoy the ride huh? It'll be worth it.'

Doing as he was told, Starsky sat back and watched the scenery flash by the car. Hutch kept behind Traff's car all the way down the freeway south and as the time went by and the temperature inside the car rose, the brunet nodded off into a deep sleep lulled by the motion of the car on the road. It was quiet for some time before he realised that the car was in fact slowing.

Starsky opened his eyes slowly and yawned loudly, the afternoon sun having given way to a magnificent magenta and orange sunset. Through the open window of the car, the brunet could smell the tang of the ocean and as he sat up straighter and looked out of the window, the scenery seemed somehow familiar. So familiar, in fact that as they drew into a small whitewashed village, his heart gave a small skip and he looked around.

'Hutch, this is….'

'San Carlos, yeah.'

'This is the village where I…..'

'Met the woman of your dreams, I know' Hutch said with a smile. He drew the car to a halt beside the small garage, right behind Traff's T-Bird and as though in a dream, Starsky got out of the car and looked around. It was exactly as he remembered it, the chickens scratching in the dirt, the sound of the gulls overhead and then, in the doorway, there was Juanita.

As if in slow motion, Starsky started to walk towards her, and she to him. As they got closer, the woman ran to him and threw her arms around Starsky's neck, burying her face in his neck as she sobbed against him. For a moment he stood, holding her, tears in his own eyes. Finally he pushed her away gently and she looked up at him.

'I don't understand' the curly haired man said gently. 'How did you know?'

Behind him, Hutch got out of the car, accompanied by Beth and formally he shook Juanita's hand. She smiled at him and then back at Starsky.

'Your friend Senior Hutch telephoned me and told me what had happened. I could not come to see you, but he told me everything that happened and he asked me if I could meet with you again. Of course, I said yes and he asked if I could have time off from the school.'

Starsky looked over his shoulder at Hutch. 'You did this for me?'

'Well for her too buddy. For some reason I don't understand, the lady seems to like ya.'

The brunet grinned down at the young woman. 'The feelin's mutual. But what now?'

'Now, you grab her bag, like a gentleman and you help her into the car. Then we drive south and check in to the luxury hotel we booked for the next week. All six of us' Hutch beamed.

'Ya mean, no gooseberry? No solitaire in my room while you an' Traff….'

'Uh uh. Now you got your very own lady Starsk, and a beautiful one I might add.'

Starsky kissed Juanita on the lips and she responded. Breaking free he smiled up at his friends. 'I don't know what to say.'

Traff and Hutch exchanged glances. 'Well its been worthwhile just for that' the soldier grinned.

'What?'

'Just to see Curly boy speechless! C'mon, get in the car. Time's a wastin'.'

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

As Starsky and Juanita sat on the back seat of Hutch's car becoming reacquainted, further north other introductions were taking place. Edgar Fisher had gone through processing at Bay City Penitentiary and was now ensconced in his cell. He'd been there less than a day, but already, he was beginning to make the best of a bad job. And he was amazed how easy his life was going to be.

Now, he sat on the edge of the hard single mattress, his back ramrod straight, staring up into the blank face of the man wearing the uniform.

'You are my friend, aren't you Pat? I feel we're going to get on so well together, you and I. You will do whatever I say, won't you?'

By the door, slack faced and totally under his prisoner's control, Patrick Rafferty stared unblinkingly at Fisher. 'Yeah….your friend…..anything you want' he said tonelessly.

--fin--

Dear friends thanks for reading this marathon story. I'm gladd you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tomorrow we start Alpha Male - Chosen One - sequel to Moonshadow.


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